


Leave A Light On

by verhalen



Series: Learning To Fly [6]
Category: Flameborn (Multiverse), TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Boners, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Tension, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drug Addiction, Elves Reborn As Mortal, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Justin Roberts is his own trigger warning, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Past Lives, Past Rape/Non-con, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Praise Kink, Prophetic Dreams, Rape Recovery, Rehabilitation, Reincarnation, Spanking, Teasing, Visions in dreams, post-overdose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/verhalen
Summary: After his second overdose, Craig begins the difficult process of getting his life in order. This time, a strong hand is willing to help guide him...Set chronologically betweenYou Give Me FeverandBroken Wingsin theLearning To Fly 'verse.
Relationships: Fëanor/Orodreth, Sören Sigurðsson (OMC)/Craig Fetherstonhaugh (OMC)
Series: Learning To Fly [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539544
Comments: 23
Kudos: 26





	1. She's Gone

**Author's Note:**

> This story will read like original fiction rather than anything Tolkien-adjacent unless you are familiar with other stories in this series (and are aware of the characters' past life connections).
> 
> Sören Sigurðsson is my OMC.
> 
> Nicholas Decaux is an OMC inspired by Dooku from Star Wars. I began shipping Dooku with an OC named Sev in 2016 in a (now-archive-locked) fic called [_Stuck in the Middle With You_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8786491), and in 2018 wrote a modern Earth AU called [_Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787306) where Sev became a human named Sören, and Dooku evolved beyond his canonical self. He looks and sounds very similar and there are similar personality traits if you squint (such as his elegance and being formal and polite to a fault), but he is also decidedly non-villainous in my multiverse and I feel it is more fair at this point to call him an OC.
> 
> Justin Roberts (who is only mentioned here) is my OC, who was first mentioned in _Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time_ and made his first on-screen appearance in my fic [_The Sound Of Sinners_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402869).
> 
>  **December 2020 update:** When I began this story I was collaborating in a shared multiverse with another author; that collaboration has since ended. I got up to the first three chapters before things happened; I am still continuing this story as it is my idea and I am attached to my story ideas. Craig, Karen, Geir, Ben, and Pierre are all pastiches of my former collaborator's OCs; some details besides their names have been changed. The comments from chapters 1 through 3 reflect the earlier version of this story, however for mental health reasons I no longer allow comments going forward.
> 
> ~ ~ ~
> 
>   
>  (banner by me)

**April 2015**  
 _London, England_  
  
  
The e-mail from Emily had been sitting in Craig's inbox all day, untouched. Craig had been avoiding it - whatever it was, couldn't be good. But he knew he couldn't avoid it forever. Whatever it was, likely at the very least Ben and Pierre knew about it, and if they knew about it, Karen probably did too, and he didn't want to be in a situation where she mentioned it before he got a chance to see it for himself. So as he sat down with some tea, he finally opened up the e-mail.  
  
The first thing he noticed was that it was CC'd - sent not just to him, but he recognized the e-mail addresses of Ben, Pierre, Karen, Geir, and amazingly, even Sören. Sören and Emily weren't exactly close, so if even he was being included in an e-mail, this had to be something. Craig braced himself, hands shaking, hearing himself breathing harder. He scrolled down.  
  
 _Hi everyone.  
  
By the time you get this e-mail I'll already be gone; I am flying out today to Toronto. I will be finishing up the last of my semester online, and transferring to University of Toronto for the next semester. (Thank you again, Sören, for giving me the suggestion to look into their astrophysics programme.)  
  
I apologise deeply for just leaving abruptly like this and not saying goodbye, but I didn't want anyone to try to talk me into staying and make me lose my nerve; I just had to do this, and get it done. Under present circumstances, I hope you'll understand why I felt the decision to transfer out was necessary.  
  
I wish you all the best.  
  
Love,  
Emily_  
  
That was even worse than anything Craig could have possibly imagined. He wasn't entirely surprised that she was transferring to the University of Toronto, after everything that happened, but just to leave so suddenly, without letting anyone know first, without even saying goodbye...  
  
...And of course, that was on him. Ben was already furious with him, had cut ties with him after the second overdose last month. Now there was additional reason for Ben to hate him. For everyone. _I did this. This is my fault. Yet more damage I've done. I fucked up._ Craig buried his face in his hands and sighed, feeling on the verge of tears. _I fucked everything up._  
  
And it wasn't simply that she'd left like this, without advance warning, without a goodbye. This, more than anything else, was the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. Even when Emily had seen him after the second overdose and told him it was over for good, Craig had still, foolishly, held out hope that maybe if he got it together and she could see he was doing better, he could prove himself once more, maybe they would reconcile. Moving to an entirely different country rather destroyed the last shred of that hope. Yes, long-distance relationships were possible, but in this case not likely.  
  
 _She's gone. She's gone, and it's my fault. And everyone is going to blame me that she left without saying goodbye._  
  
Craig took his face out of his hands and fought the urge to throw his laptop across the room, if only because breaking an expensive laptop and the inconvenience of needing a replacement would be yet more proof that he was a constant fuckup.  
  
It was raining outside. Craig got up and went over to the window. Looking out across the city, he thought about the parties he went to in Holborn. He thought about the cocaine, and the way it made him feel. When he was high, all of his insecurities and shame disappeared. He felt confident, on top of the world.  
  
He desperately craved that feeling again. A shudder went through him, and he gripped the windowsill, white-knuckled. His dealer was in Holborn, a short taxi ride away, and would be home right about now. Craig had the urge to go out there, into the rain, and get a fix. Make this all go away for awhile.  
  
The fact that he was craving it again even after it had almost killed him _twice_ , with the second overdose more severe than the first, stung Craig with yet more self-loathing, hot and sharp. Hating himself for wanting to get high just made him want to get high even more.  
  
He found himself going to the hall closet, taking out his jacket. He needed to get out before Karen noticed, and he needed to make it quick - just a fix, not a social call. He needed -  
  
"Craig?" Of course, Karen had heard the hall closet door open. Karen paused at the top of the steps. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I, ah." Craig nervously rubbed his hair. "I need to get out for a bit. Get some air."  
  
"In the rain?"  
  
 _Oh shit._ He felt like an idiot; Karen _had_ been a barrister, she didn't miss a thing. Karen came downstairs just as Craig slammed the hall closet door shut. Karen stood in front of him, arms folded, a stern look on her face as Craig leaned against the hall closet door, wanting to run and hide.  
  
"You're upset about something," Karen challenged.  
  
There was no use trying to pretend otherwise, with her being as keenly observant as she was. Craig looked down at his shoes and just nodded. "Yeah, I am."  
  
"Want to talk about whatever it is?"  
  
Craig looked back up, feeling somewhat annoyed that she was playing coy. "I think you already know."  
  
"Ah. Yes."  
  
Karen marched him over to the couch and sat beside him. Craig had left his laptop open and the tab with his e-mail open for the world to see, which made him feel even more like an idiot. He closed it out, and then Karen looked at him. Her expression was neutral now, but Craig could see the tightness on her face. This discussion was uncomfortable for her as well.  
  
 _Of course it's uncomfortable, one of her good friends left without saying goodbye to her, all because of_ me. _My fault. My fuckup._  
  
"So..." Craig swallowed hard. He didn't even know where or how to begin, how to put his thoughts and feelings into words. "The... the e-mail."  
  
"Yes, the e-mail."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"So am I." Karen looked down.  
  
"Jesus." Craig pinched the bridge of his nose, blinking back tears. "I... I did this. I..."  
  
"Craig..." Karen put a hand on his arm. " _Craig_ -"  
  
"No. Karen. This is my fault. _Again._ Yet another rain of fallout after the explosion, I guess." Craig rubbed his face, trying to hold back the tears. "You must hate me."  
  
"I don't hate you, Craig." Karen gave his arm a reassuring pat. "Awkwardness or not, nobody _forced_ Emily to up and move to Toronto like that, without telling anyone -"  
  
"Didn't I?" Craig swallowed again. "She'd still be here if I hadn't -"  
  
Karen sighed. "There's only so much that you can be blamed for. While her feelings on whether or not to stay or go could have been influenced by what happened, in the end it _was_ her decision to make, and that's the decision she made -"  
  
"Karen, don't be such a barrister. It's like... putting a gun in the hand of a suicidal man but it's not your fault if he pulls the trigger -"  
  
Karen's eyebrows shot up and Craig knew immediately that was a bad comparison. Very bad. "Are you... feeling suicidal, Craig?"  
  
" _No,_ " Craig said, and he realized how defensive his tone was. That was when the dam finally broke and he started to cry. Karen watched, the neutral expression gone, all concern and sympathy now. Craig hated it, even as much as he needed, wanted comfort. "I'm not suicidal. But this is... it's hard to take..."  
  
"Of course it is," Karen said, nodding. And then she pursed her lips, and Craig knew he was in trouble. "Craig, you weren't about to go out into the rain just to get some air, were you?"  
  
"Oh god." Craig wept harder. He shook his head, deciding honesty was the best policy. He was in trouble anyway, it would be worse if she knew he was lying. "I want a fix. I really _fucking_ want a fix right now. I know it's wrong. I know I shouldn't. But I'm craving -"  
  
Karen took Craig into her arms, and Craig fell apart on her shoulder. Part of him wanted to push her away, wanted to yell _don't you dare pity me_ but right now, it was someone who didn't hate him, when it felt like the whole world did.  
  
"I stopped you just in time then," Karen said. "Craig, I don't think I have to tell you what's going to happen if you -"  
  
"I know." Craig being allowed to stay with Karen and Geir was contingent on his sobriety. " _I know._ " His cheeks burned, hot with shame that he was craving, after he'd almost died, after he'd let everyone down, after his best friend was no longer speaking to him, and the love of his life was across the ocean now to get away from him and the mess he'd made. "It's not like I want to feel this way. But dammit, it's so hard right now." Craig sobbed. "I just want to make the pain stop."  
  
"I know it hurts, Craig. But getting high will only stop the pain for a little while. Eventually it'll wear off. And you'll be back in that vicious cycle again..."  
  
"Just this once." Craig couldn't believe he was pleading with her, trying to reason with her. He hated himself even more for it. "Just this once, _please_. Yes, it only stops the pain for a little while, but at least it _stops_. I just need to get high this once, go away -"  
  
As if right on cue, a key unlocked the door and Craig saw Nicholas and Sören walk in. Craig wondered how much they'd heard outside the door, and he was guessing from the sour look on their faces that they'd heard enough.  
  
"Karen," Nicholas said, giving a small smile in greeting. Then his face soured back up again. "Craig."  
  
Craig looked at Karen, feeling panicked. Now he really wanted to run and hide.  
  
"I forgot to tell you earlier that Nicholas and Sören were coming for dinner," Karen said. "I wasn't exactly in a good way after Emily's e-mail myself."  
  
"We brought takeaway," Nicholas said, and Sören held up two bags, paper in plastic. "As you know, I enjoy cooking, but after today's news Sören felt it might be better to just get right to the business of mealtime... and the discussion thereafter."  
  
Craig had not really seen Nicholas or Sören since he was in the hospital - they'd come to visit, but he was still out of it enough that the memory was vague. They'd been keeping their distance since Craig was released from the hospital, but Craig knew sooner or later they were going to come over, if only to visit with Karen and Geir, and Craig had a feeling that he was in for a lecture. Now he knew that lecture was inevitable.  
  
The feeling of dread was intensified by how quiet Sören was being. Sören was usually all smiles, bouncy and cheerful no matter how tired he was from work. Now Sören was giving him a death glare. And though Craig was having anxiety, the urge to run, he also found himself glaring at Sören right back, remembering Emily's parenthetical aside in the e-mail. _(Thank you again, Sören, for giving me the suggestion to look into their astrophysics programme.)_ Sören had to have known Emily was thinking about transferring out, hence the suggestion. And Sören didn't tell him. And he wondered how much Sören had influenced her to go and start her life over again - after all, Sören himself had come to England from Iceland. _You. You took Emily away from me._ He knew it was a completely irrational thought, he and Emily had been done for months now, finalized after the overdose, and he also knew from having been with Emily since college that Emily made her own decisions. He hated himself for thinking like that. But he was angry, and that anger needed a target other than himself.  
  
Sören came over to give Karen a little hug and a kiss. "Hi, _elskan._ " His expression softened somewhat; he glanced up the steps. "Where's Geir?"  
  
"I'll be down in just a minute," Geir yelled down the stairs. "Had to freshen up after practice." He had been playing flute with the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House all day.  
  
"Oh, you know I don't care if you're decent or not," Sören called up the stairs.  
  
"I think other people care," Karen said, elbowing him, glancing over at Nicholas.  
  
That was another thing where Craig felt irrationally angry towards Sören. Sören seemed very comfortable in his bisexuality - if other people didn't like it that was their problem. Craig had experimented when he was at boarding school, and then attempted heterosexuality throughout college, even though his best friend Ben was gay - Ben, Karen's little brother, and why Karen was letting Craig stay with them, since he was like her little brother too. The Fetherstonhaugh family was a traditional, land-owning, moneyed family; there was an expectation that someday Craig would marry, have children, run his family's estate. And even without that expectation hanging over him, Craig loved Emily. But when he'd started traveling in a certain circle last fall, there had been a few gay and bisexual men in his group of acquaintances, and after Emily said she needed a break in January, Craig had given into the curiosity he'd kept in the closet for the last few years. One man in particular, Justin, had been very sweet and charming... until he wasn't.  
  
The bastard was dead now, in a car accident that was his own fault, but the abuse during the brief fling still haunted Craig, enough that when Craig received news of the car accident he ended up overdosing. And yet, the horror of Justin hadn't put Craig completely off to men. If Craig was being very honest with himself, he preferred men - even though he had loved Emily and would have been happy to marry her.  
  
Craig knew part of why he was reacting like this to Sören was because he was attracted to Sören. He didn't think the Icelandic neurosurgeon would give him the time of day; in fact, from the way Sören was scowling at him he was very sure Sören thought he was an utterly contemptible piece of shit. An opinion no doubt weighted by Sören's friendship with Ben; despite Sören's schedule, he'd been present for Ben more than Craig had been the last few months, when Craig disappeared into drugging and partying. Sören probably heard an earful from Ben since the overdose. It was bad enough to be hated by his former friends, but to Craig it felt almost somewhat worse being hated by someone he had a stupid little crush on.  
  
Someone he had a stupid little crush on, who had very likely heard him cry about wanting a fix just before he stepped through the door. The way Sören continued to stare at Craig as he took cartons of Chinese food out of the bags made Craig want to crawl under the couch and die.  
  
Geir came down and stopped in the kitchen, bringing plates, bowls, forks and a ladle into the living room. Nicholas began to serve everyone. Craig was so keyed up he couldn't even articulate what he wanted, could only point, and Nicholas's sour expression got even more sour, as if Nicholas thought Craig was rude for pointing.  
  
Since Geir was a bit of a health nut, he eschewed the fattier things like egg rolls and crab rangoon, and stuck to stir-fried mixed vegetables and the teriyaki beef. The look Sören gave Craig as he tore into an egg roll suggested he wanted to bite Craig's head off instead.  
  
Karen put on the TV - Craig knew it was for background noise, since the awkward, tense silence was oppressive. But even with the noise of the television, the tension was still in the air, as thick as the sweet-and-sour sauce that Craig dipped his crab rangoon into. _It's like The Last Supper, only I'm the one about to be crucified._ Usually Craig would be happy to have Chinese food and share it with friends, but this was a long, uncomfortable meal, and Craig knew what was waiting for him at the end of it was even worse.


	2. Face the Music

When dinner was over, Geir and Nicholas collected the dishes and silverware, and did dishes together in the kitchen. Craig kept glancing over at them, feeling nervous, and every now and again Nicholas glanced back at him - as if he could feel Craig looking at him - and the stern look on the elderly man's face intensified Craig's anxiety. He was definitely in for it.  
  
Craig kept glancing over at Geir and Nicholas in part to avoid looking over at Sören, who was showing Karen pictures on his cell phone, but kept looking up and glaring.  
  
It was difficult not to stare at Sören, with black curls almost to his shoulders, beard and mustache framing sultry, pouty lips... and those soulful brown eyes. When Sören smiled, his eyes were warm and seemed to light up the entire room. But now, Sören was scowling at him, and Craig thought that made him even sexier, a sort of dark, smouldering energy to him. Craig hated that he still had that stupid little crush on Sören, especially when he was sure it wasn't just Nicholas who was about to lecture him, but Sören too.  
  
Nicholas and Sören made an attractive couple - Nicholas was old enough to be Sören's father, and had silver hair and beard, some wrinkles, but was still handsome, and in remarkable shape for his age. His height - a good six feet five inches - and the intense dark eyes, with just-as-intense bushy eyebrows, were somewhat intimidating. Nicholas's voice was intimidating most of all, deep and rich, usually soft-spoken, but with presence, a sort of _power_. Of all the people to lecture him, it had to be Nicholas with that voice.  
  
Craig was not looking forward to this at all.  
  
When the dishes were done, Geir and Nicholas came back with tea. Cups were fixed and poured, and Nicholas just held his cup of tea, looking around the room. Finally he cleared his throat. "We are not just here for a social call," Nicholas said, and looked right at Craig.  
  
"I thought not," Craig said, looking down at his feet.  
  
"Eyes up here," Nicholas said, an edge to his voice.  
  
Craig's eyes met Nicholas's, and he swallowed hard. He could see the anger in Nicholas's eyes - anger and compassion. Sadness. Craig felt the nauseating dance of pride and shame within him, wanting to lash out at Nicholas immediately, _I don't need your shit and I don't want your pity,_ but he held back. He was a guest under Karen and Geir's roof, and they had to have known this was coming, and would have objected if they didn't want it to happen. So he had to play along... and he knew he deserved the discomfort, deserved every and any harsh word they had for him. _Emily's gone, because I fucked up._  
  
"As you know, you recently had a second overdose. One would think that one brush with death would be enough to learn one's lesson, but clearly it was not." Nicholas sniffed, sipped his tea, and then put his cup down. He folded his arms in his lap and glared at Craig. "Not only did you almost die, but you spent months lying to the people closest to you about your whereabouts and activities. And as you know, it has done tremendous damage. Ben no longer wants to speak to you. The rest of us are not quite there, but almost. The fact is, we can't trust you -"  
  
"I know." Craig knew it was a bad idea to interrupt Nicholas, but the words came out of him, not thinking, just feeling. His heart pounded in his chest. "I know what I did was wrong -"  
  
"-And has deep and lasting consequences. Sören and I were planning on coming over and having a talk with you anyway, but as you know, Emily has left for Toronto. That, too, is a consequence of your misconduct -"  
  
"Is it?" Even though Craig knew that it was, he once again thought of that aside in Emily's e-mail. _(Thank you again, Sören, for giving me the suggestion to look into their astrophysics programme.)_ He knew logically that Sören didn't force her to move, and Emily wouldn't have left if he hadn't overdosed, if he hadn't started using again, but he felt such crushing self-loathing that he needed to offload some of his anger onto somebody else. He glanced over at Sören now. "You saw the e-mail, didn't you? You knew she was leaving for Toronto and didn't tell me -"  
  
Sören's nostrils flared. When he spoke, his accent was heavier than usual. "First of all, I didn't _know for a fact_ that she was leaving for Toronto, no. Second of all, _even if I had_ , do you think you would have reacted well to the information if I'd told you?"  
  
Craig didn't answer that; he didn't need to. Everyone already knew the answer.  
  
"You mind telling me what that thing was about in her e-mail then?" Craig was still angry; if anything, he was angrier now. "'Cos from where I sit, it sounds like you went behind my back talking shit and told her to leave because you and everyone hates me -"  
  
"I don't hate you, Craig, but if it helps you sleep better at night, keep telling yourself that," Sören said. Then Sören took a deep breath - Craig got the sense he'd hit a nerve somehow - and Sören spoke more slowly, though his accent was still heavy. "For the record, Emily came to see me on my break at the National a couple of weeks ago, while you were still in the hospital, precisely because she and I don't know each other all that well, so she wanted the perspective of a somewhat-outside observer. She told me that she was considering leaving the UK, starting her life over again in another country. I told her that a change of scenery might do her some good, as someone who left my own country because of problems I was having... and I also told her that moving doesn't always help you start over. You're still stuck with yourself, and whatever internal conflicts you're having, follow you there. I also told her that if she was looking at leaving the UK, my brother is part of the astrophysics program at the University of Toronto, so from everything I'd heard about it from him it was highly recommended. And that was all. End of story. I didn't _force_ her to move, I didn't say anything like 'oh yes you should totally get out of England because Craig is just so horrible.' I knew that if she was asking me for thoughts on moving out of the country, there was a non-zero chance that she would do so, but she didn't make the decision in that conversation, it was just as much news to me when I got the e-mail this morning."  
  
"But you still knew she was thinking about it."  
  
"I did, and she asked me to keep our discussion confidential. Which I did. When someone asks me to keep something in confidence, I do, unless I have a compelling reason not to, like someone's life is in danger. But again, even if she hadn't, don't sit here and tell me that you would have reacted perfectly calmly if I'd told you she was thinking about moving. We both know you would have reacted badly." Sören's nostrils flared again. "Maybe even worse than how you were when we walked in a couple hours ago." Sören looked over at Nicholas, who nodded.  
  
"Indeed," Nicholas said.  
  
Craig didn't want to stay angry - he respected that Sören kept Emily's confidence. And it seemed Emily was already thinking about leaving even before talking to Sören about it. Bitterly, Craig wondered how long, and if Emily had in fact been entertaining the idea since before his overdose, while they were still separated but living together, and not seeing much of each other.  
  
Nicholas continued. "And you were indeed in a bad way when we came in." Nicholas's eyebrows raised. "You were thinking about using again."  
  
Craig wasn't going to deny it. He simply nodded, face on fire.  
  
Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, a pained look on his face. Then he exhaled. That exhale, itself, was worth a thousand words; it conveyed a world of disappointment. As did the little headshake Nicholas gave before he opened his mouth to speak again.  
  
"I realize that the news of your ex-girlfriend leaving for another country must be difficult," Nicholas said. "But surely it does not justify falling back into the same habits that almost cost you your life. That, as you know, cost your friends a tremendous amount of heartache and pain. If you would not have a care for yourself and your life, you should at least think of them, and how it would be to endure the vicious cycle of your addiction all over again."  
  
"It's not like I want to feel this way," Craig said. "I wish I wasn't craving a fix right now, either. And _as you know_ -" Craig couldn't resist throwing Nicholas's verbal tic back at him. "I _didn't_ go out and get a fix."  
  
"Because Karen stopped you." Sören's eyes narrowed.  
  
Craig sighed. He leaned back in his chair and facepalmed. He desperately wanted to be done with this lecture - it felt like beating a dead horse - and he just wanted to be left alone. He was still craving a fix, if anything he was craving it even more now that everyone around him was reminding him of just how much he'd fucked up. But he was starting to feel angry even more than he was feeling hurt and ashamed. Defensive. He needed to hold out, if only to show everyone he wasn't the worst person who ever lived.  
  
Nicholas went on. "What I don't understand, through all of this, is why. You are a bright young man with a lot of potential, and you chose to throw it away on drugs. It's not too late to rebuild your life, but you only get so many chances. You may not survive a third overdose. And well before that point, you will lose everyone and everything dear to you. It is incredibly disappointing to me to see someone who could do so well, come to this. And just as disappointing to see how much you've hurt people who care about you. Again, if you truly care for the people you have left in your life, you need to try to not give in -"  
  
"You act like I didn't care about Emily and Ben and the others when I was using," Craig said.  
  
"And your actions make it look as if you didn't care," Nicholas said. "They had already endured your first overdose, and as you know, you put them through that hell a second time. For _what._ "  
  
Craig didn't know how to articulate the emptiness, the insecurities - feeling like even though he was doing everything society expected of him, it still felt _wrong_ somehow, like his life was meaningless. Like he was an impostor, playing a game he couldn't win. Even if he could put those feelings into words, he doubted it would matter. He felt like everything he could say in response to Nicholas was the wrong answer. So he kept silent.  
  
His silence seemed to be worse than giving the wrong answer. Nicholas's usually soft voice rose, commanding the room, as he continued, "And now you would go for a third round? After all of that. Yes, please tell me again about how you care for the people you know, when you want to fall back into addiction a third time -"  
  
"I already told you I don't _want_ to feel like this," Craig said. His fists clenched and he felt his body tense even more. "And yes, Karen stopped me from going out and getting a fix -"  
  
"And if she hadn't?" Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Where would you be now? High?"  
  
Craig made a disgusted noise and buried his face in his hands. Then he looked up at the ceiling.  
  
"Going back to the thing that nearly almost killed you. As you know, you overdosed twice. One, two. Two times -"  
  
Craig couldn't take it anymore. "Yes, thank you for the maths lesson, for teaching me how to count. _As you know_ , I don't know how to count, I was only in banking for -"  
  
Now Sören cut into the conversation. "How fucking dare you."  
  
Craig froze. For a moment it felt like he couldn't breathe. It was one thing for Nicholas to lay into him like this, like Nicholas thought he was his father, but for Sören to jump in... _Now I'm in for it._  
  
Sören sneered, looking angry enough to spit. Then he scowled again as he went on, "You had everything handed to you on a silver fucking platter your entire life. I grew up in poverty, raised by alcoholics who didn't give a shit if I lived or died, and more often than not they acted like they wanted me dead. I had every fucking reason to turn to drugs to escape from the pain I was in, and I didn't. Hell, for most of my life I didn't even have _friends_ , that came more recently. You've had the kind of life I would have given my eyeteeth for and you just throw it away because what, you're bored? Don't sit here and act like we're supposed to feel fucking sorry for you and you're some sort of fucking victim."  
  
Craig looked down at his feet again. His face was on fire, and he felt ready to cry again, the flood of shame. He did in fact have it better than a lot of people, and that, too, was part of the horrible feeling that made him escape into drugs - like he didn't belong in the life he'd been born into, and he didn't deserve it when so many other people were suffering. He wanted to say something to that effect but he had a feeling it would just make it worse.  
  
But then Sören had to keep going, laying it on. "Nick asked why you're like this, but you know, I've seen it before. Poor little rich boys who turn into shallow, superficial fucks and don't care about the damage they do, the people they hurt, wrecking other people's lives while they're setting about ruining their own..." Sören snorted. "All the bullshit going on in the world, and you have to invent problems for yourself. People are dying, Craig."  
  
"I feel like I'm dying. Inside." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Craig regretted it, because it sounded so stupid, so self-absorbed, when Sören was right...  
  
And sure enough, Sören gave him a reason to regret it, that answer seeming to set off something inside him. Sören opened his mouth, eyes wide, and he blinked slowly, as if he couldn't believe what Craig had just said. What came out of his mouth next was in Icelandic; Craig got the sense Sören was so angry he momentarily lost his ability to speak English. " _Viltu segja það við ungu, bjartu mennina og konurnar sem lentu í slysi eða fengu einhvers konar æxli og fundu leið sína að skurðborðinu mínu? Þú ert með einhverja fokking taug. Þú kastar lífi þínu fyrir kókaíni á meðan þetta fólk á skurðborðinu mínu myndi gefa allt sitt fyrir lífið sem þú tekur sem sjálfsögðum hlut. Þú veist að það er skortur á læknum á Englandi, ekki satt? Hve margir læknar og hjúkrunarfræðingar þurftu að eyða tíma í að endurvekja heimska rassinn þinn, sem hefði getað unnið á einhvern annan?_ "  
  
Craig had no idea what Sören was saying... he only knew that suddenly, he felt a frisson of arousal. Not only did Sören look delicious with that fire raging in his eyes, ready to ride off to war, but even though Craig knew Sören was saying nothing nice, it still sounded incredibly sexy, Sören's voice even more musical as he spoke his native language. A shiver went down Craig's spine, and despite his discomfort with the situation, his cock began to stir in his jeans.  
  
Nicholas gave Sören a concerned look, and Craig wondered if Nicholas had seen Sören act like this before. Nicholas put up his hand. "Sören..."  
  
" _Hvað þarf til að skera þennan skít út?_ " Sören's glare intensified. " _Hvenær ætlarðu loksins að draga höfuðið upp úr rassinum á þér? Hversu mikið meira þarftu að tapa áður en þú lítur um allan sársauka sem þú hefur valdið?_ "  
  
Craig licked his lips; his mouth was suddenly dry. He needed Sören to stop going on like that, stop being so _hot._ This was not the reaction he wanted to have in this situation. Not at all. "I... I don't speak Icelandic..."  
  
Sören took a deep breath, and for a split second Craig thought he might calm down, but then Sören spoke in English and it was not at all calm. "Fine. Here's something you can understand. Get on your knees."  
  
"What?" Craig couldn't believe what he was hearing.  
  
"You heard me, boy. _Get on your FUCKING knees._ Kneel. **Now.** "  
  
Nicholas opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Craig found himself getting on his knees on the floor, while Karen and Geir watched in shock. Karen gave Sören a worried look, and Sören glared back at her, before his gaze returned to Craig, on his knees. Sören came closer. The hair on Craig's neck and arms stood on end...  
  
...and by the time Sören was standing right in front of him, Craig's cock was throbbing, balls tightening.  
  
"You," Sören said, his voice a growl, "are going to tell everyone how sorry you are, right there on your fucking knees, like you're begging for your life. Because we are the last people to not turn our backs on you - apart from Pierre, who's not here right now - and we are in fact your last chance, after this you're thrown to the wolves. You understand, boy?"  
  
Craig nodded. Ordinarily he'd get annoyed with anyone else calling him "boy" - he was twenty-three - but something about Sören saying it made his cock harden even more. _Oh god._ He closed his eyes and heard himself pleading, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I fucked up. I know I fucked up, I know I hurt all of you, I know it's hard to trust me again after what happened, but please, _please_ give me another chance, please, I'll try, please, I'm sorry..."  
  
"Louder," Sören said. "Like you fucking mean it."  
  
"I'm sorry." Craig started to sob, and as ashamed as he was of crying in front of everyone, and the reason why he was crying, it also felt weirdly cathartic. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't want to be like this, I don't want to crave drugs, I just want to stay clean, I want to get my life together, I'm sorry I'm such a mess, I'm sorry for what I put everyone through, I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Craig's voice broke, and now he could only weep, doubling over as the tears racked him, so hard it was almost painful.  
  
That wasn't the only thing that was hard. Craig opened his eyes, looked down, and saw his jeans were tented.  
  
And then he saw Sören staring at the hard bulge. There was no hiding it. Sören's full lips parted, his pupils blown wide.  
  
"Oh god." Craig let out a little whimper. He tried to meet Sören's eyes, his face on fire again; he opened his mouth and no sound came out. Sören looked away, and now Sören was beetroot.  
  
Sören started back to his seat. Not thinking, Craig just bolted down the hall to the bathroom, needing to get out of there, needing to hide. He immediately turned on the faucet and began to splash cold water on his face, shaking and crying. Of all the worst times to get an erection, this was definitely the worst, and Craig made a noise as he slid against the wall to sit on the cool tile floor, letting the water run to drown out his tears.  
  
Above the water rushing out of the faucet, Craig heard Nicholas's basso. "We had best be going."  
  
"We weren't finished," Sören said. "You hadn't really gotten to your -"  
  
"I believe that can wait," Nicholas said. "He's had enough for now."  
  
 _Yes, please, go._ Craig dreaded that Nicholas had more to say, but he didn't want to go back out there and face them after... this. Already his erection was shrinking with the humiliation of it all, but he still didn't feel ready to leave the bathroom. He needed to just stay put for awhile.  
  
The craving came back, the temptation to get high and forget about all of this. But he couldn't. He clenched his fists and took deep breaths. _I just need to make it through tonight, somehow._  
  
A little while later Geir knocked on the bathroom door. "Craig? You OK?" A pause. "You fall in?"  
  
"I'm fine, Geir."  
  
"You want to come out and talk about it?"  
  
Craig got up, opened the bathroom door a crack, and shook his head. "I really don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget -"  
  
And then Geir's arms were around him, and Geir put Craig's head on his shoulder. Then Karen was there too, hugging both of them.  
  
"They hate me," Craig sobbed, "and I don't blame them." He thought of the fierce, savage look on Sören's voice, the fury in his words.  
  
"Nobody hates you. Disappointed? Yes. Angry? Probably. But hate is a strong word." Karen tousled Craig's hair. "Come on, I'll make you some hot chocolate."  
  
Craig sniffled. "I'm sorry."  
  
Karen cocked her head to one side. "For?"  
  
"You having to... babysit me... like this. It isn't right. I'm a grown man, I should take care of myself -"  
  
"You're a friend," Karen said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "And you're not well. We're just doing what we would do for any one of us who wasn't well."  
  
 _Except they would return the favor, and I'm useless right now._ Craig sighed, but he was too drained to argue with Karen. He followed Geir and Karen back out to the living room, and once he was on the couch, Geir drew a blanket around him, smiling.  
  
With a warm fluffy blanket, a mug of hot chocolate, and rain falling outside, it was peaceful and cozy. Except Craig was still a raging storm inside, and he didn't know if anything could calm it.


	3. Not Like Fifty Shades

"You're still awake."  
  
Sören sighed. While Nicholas wasn't a barrister like Karen had been - like Anthony was - Nicholas still had enough experience from teaching, and his time as a priest, to pick up on little cues. Nicholas had been spooning against Sören's back, arms around him, and though Sören tried to rein in his restlessness and just get to sleep already, both to avoid disturbing Nicholas and because he had an early shift tomorrow, he gathered Nicholas could still feel the tension, could hear Sören's uneven breath.  
  
"Jæja." Sören patted Nicholas's hand. "I'm sorry."  
  
"You needn't apologize, dear." Nicholas's arms tightened around Sören's chest. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"I don't want to keep you up -"  
  
"What will keep me up is worrying about you."  
  
Sören sighed again, and nodded. Nicholas withdrew his arms and Sören sat up. He put on the small lamp on the table beside the bed. Tobias, who was sleeping at the foot of the bed, laying across both their feet, picked his head up with a chirp, got up, stretched and yawned, and climbed over Sören's body to settle into Sören's arms, purring.  
  
"He knows," Nicholas said, stroking the cat and skritching his chin and whisker pads, then he pet Sören's curls and skritched his beard, which made Sören smile fondly and kiss Nicholas's hand. Nicholas gave Sören a small smile, but there was concern in his dark eyes.  
  
"It's, you know. The talk with Craig earlier." Sören scowled.  
  
"Yes." Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, looking pained again. Then his eyes met Sören's. "I think you were a bit too hard on him."  
  
"Yeah, I think I was kind of a dick." Sören looked down. They had come over with the intent to give Craig a stern lecture about rethinking his life and his choices, and Sören was going to offer a list of resources for counselors and outpatient programs... and Sören had given into his temper. He knew that if the situation was reversed, being yelled at would make him feel ashamed and want to escape and get high even more.  
  
"I have to say," Nicholas said, "as a former priest, I take exception to the viewpoint that 'someone else has it worse, so you shouldn't feel bad.' While I worked a great deal with the poor, I also ministered to people from all walks of life, and one thing that stayed with me from that experience was that life's pain and suffering knows no bounds. Grief and anguish are the great leveler, and it is the sort of thing that should bring people together across lines of class and race and sexual and gender orientation and creed, to work together to create a more just, more safe, more peaceful world. Just because one person has it worse does not mean someone in a more privileged or less disastrous situation doesn't feel pain when something bad happens to them. You, for example, have had a very difficult life, with losing your parents so young, and being abused by your guardians. I doubt you would appreciate it very much if I told you that you had no right to feel pain over those experiences because there are refugees from places torn apart by ISIL or Boko Haram who have lost their entire families and are living in camps on the precarious edge of survival..."  
  
"All right, point taken." Sören nodded. "What I said was wrong, and I owe Craig an apology." Sören leaned back against the headboard and tilted his head back with a deep sigh, feeling guilty all over again. "I just... got pissed off and reacted. I'm a neurosurgeon, not a counselor."  
  
"I was too hard on him as well," Nicholas said, frowning. "I'm not pleased with myself right now. I don't know Craig well, but from what I do know, he's very bright and very capable. It upsets me to see someone with so much potential destroying himself like that. I invoked my background as a priest a moment ago, but I wasn't as compassionate as I should have been. And that's what he needs. I'm sure he's agonizing enough about what he's done, and the consequences, without us berating him."  
  
"Yeah." Sören nodded again. "But it's easier to be compassionate and non-judgmental when you're somewhat removed from the person and situation in question. It's harder when it's your family, and, I mean, Craig is sort of part of this big, weird family we acquired from Karen and Geir. It's more personal, it's harder to not take it personally."  
  
"Indeed." Nicholas's lips quirked without humor. "It was almost as if I were lecturing a son. I suppose it's a good thing I never had children."  
  
Tobias meowed at that as if to protest, and Nicholas chuckled and gave the cat some more pettings. Then Nicholas gave Sören a stern look. "And I think in your case, it hit a little too close to home for you. You weren't just yelling at Craig."  
  
Sören facepalmed. He knew Nicholas was right. He nodded with his hand still covering his face, and when Tobias climbed across to sit on Nicholas, Sören folded his arms. "Craig is somewhat higher up the class ladder than Anthony, as far as I can tell, but -"  
  
"Craig became a target for all that pent-up anger." Nicholas put a hand on Sören's shoulder.  
  
"I mean, Anthony never did drugs. Well, let me rephrase that. He admitted to doing cocaine a few times recreationally, but doesn't like the way it feels, or its price tag, so it never became a thing. But -"  
  
"But there was still the theme of someone with a privileged background, making poor choices that impacted and hurt others. As you were hurt by Anthony's poor decisions, and as others were hurt by Craig's poor decisions. While you were too hard on Craig, as was I, it is understandable why you did lash out. I do think, however, that when you apologize to him, you may also want to give him some context as to why your reaction was as severe as it was."  
  
Sören didn't like the idea of bringing up something that personal with someone he didn't know terribly well yet, at the same time seeing Craig in the hospital in the immediate aftermath of the overdose was itself pretty personal so Sören supposed fair was fair. "OK." Then Sören brought up the other big, uncomfortable thing from the evening's visit, which was contributing to him lying awake just as much as feeling guilty about lashing out, if not moreso. "Speaking of being too hard..."  
  
"Er, yes." Nicholas seemed to know immediately what Sören was referring to. He had, after all, been right there and seen it for himself.  
  
Sören closed his eyes and exhaled sharply. His mind's eye conjured up the mental image of Craig down on his knees, sporting a healthy erection in his jeans. And once again, Sören found his own cock stirring in response, thinking about what Craig's cock would look like out of those jeans... what Craig would look like naked, and on his knees, Sören's cock in his mouth. The thought had crossed Sören's mind more than once since they went home, and Sören was ashamed of it.  
  
Before now, Sören had thought Craig was cute, but hadn't really thought of him in that way. Sören had Nicholas, and Karen, and Geir, and while he was open to potentially seeing other people, he hadn't even considered Craig. When they met over the holidays, Craig and Emily had been an item. Then Sören heard that Craig and Emily were taking a break, while they still lived together, but even then, Sören thought Craig was a bit young for him - Sören was thirty, Craig was twenty-three - and came from a totally different walk of life, and Sören was hesitant about getting involved with someone from an obviously higher social class after his experience with Anthony and Anthony's posh, judgmental friends.  
  
Now, though, Sören was seeing Craig in a bit of a different light. His mind's eye readily showcased the slender young man with his tousled sandy hair, expressive blue eyes, full lips, mischievous smile, and dimples. There was something innocent yet naughty about him, and Sören found that intriguing.  
  
He didn't want to take advantage of Craig when he was vulnerable, he was nervous about going there and handling it badly and pouring gasoline on the fire. And yet... "That boy needs a dom."  
  
Nicholas's eyebrows raised. "A..."  
  
"A dominant." Sören once again remembered Nicholas had been celibate for most of his life, and a priest for some of that. "Judging from the way Craig, ah... reacted... when he was down on his knees begging, he's a submissive, or has submissive tendencies, anyway. I read an article once that said there's a number of high-powered executive types who go in to see pro-dommes to get tied up and beaten and bossed around and stuff and that makes a kind of intuitive sense to me, that someone who's used to being in charge all the time would want to let go." Sören gave a nervous little chuckle. "I play God every day in the operating theatre, and it was very... freeing... for me on the occasions when Anthony tied me up and..." Sören's voice trailed off, not wanting to make Nicholas uncomfortable with talking in such detail about his past history.  
  
Then Sören realized that this was the first time Nicholas was hearing about that particular part of his history. Sören swallowed hard, worrying that Nicholas would think he was some sort of pervert, but instead, Nicholas said, "So, like _Fifty Shades of Grey_?"  
  
Sören facepalmed and snorted, shaking with silent laughter. He shook his head vehemently. "No, not like _Fifty Shades of Grey._ Anthony and I had boundaries, and it was always consensual. He was never abusive to me." _It would have been easier if he had been, then I could hate him without reservation._ Sören hated that even now, he still loved Anthony and missed him; not a day went by where he didn't think of Anthony at least once. Then Sören smirked, surprised by Nicholas's comment. "How do you know about _Fifty Shades_ , anyway?"  
  
"One of my students was reading it and discussing it and I happened to overhear the conversation. I've never read the book myself."  
  
"You're better off not reading it," Sören said. "It isn't exactly... accurate. It has a lot of problems."  
  
"I see. Well, I assume you'd know."  
  
Sören's face flushed. "Yeah, I mean, Anthony and I only played like that once in awhile. Anthony was my dom, and I think that made the breakup harder than it would have been, it's like... a permanent case of subdrop... but it wasn't a full-on 24/7 master-slave type thing. Just occasionally he'd tie me up and tease me, make me beg, that sort of thing." Once again, Sören felt self-conscious about bringing up his past history to Nicholas, but Nicholas didn't appear to be reacting negatively. Sören also felt self-conscious because he was using words Nicholas probably didn't understand, like "subdrop".  
  
"I didn't know," Nicholas said. "You never talked about it."  
  
"There's never really been a chance to talk about it before now. Not the sort of thing you can just drop into casual conversation, we weren't discussing subjects where I could just... bring it up." Sören took a deep breath, shifting his posture. "I hope I didn't weird you out."  
  
"No," Nicholas said. "I'm... intrigued."  
  
"Are you." The thought of Nicholas tying him up and teasing him sent a shiver down Sören's spine; he loved that idea. But he didn't want to pressure Nicholas into doing anything he didn't truly want to do, just to "try it" to make him happy.  
  
"Yes. I think I'll... sit with the idea some more, but." Nicholas's cheeks were pink now.  
  
"It's OK if you don't want to," Sören quickly assured him. "Like I said, it was just a sometimes thing for us. It was a 'nice to have', not something mandatory that I _need_ to happen, in case that weren't already obvious..."  
  
"I... I know. But..." Their eyes met. "It does sound fun." Nicholas gave him a little smile, and then sobered again. "Anyway, back to Craig..."  
  
"Yes." Sören raised an eyebrow. "I assume you already know what I'm thinking."  
  
"About volunteering for the job as his... dom." Their eyes met.  
  
Sören nodded solemnly. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't find him attractive, and that I didn't find the idea kind of hot. But that's assuming he even wants to go there. That's one thing about doing BDSM right, is both parties have to be on the same page, informed and consenting. But..." Sören rubbed his face and he gestured to Nicholas. "I don't know how you feel about it. You do get a say, since as my partner, it affects you."  
  
"Well, as you know, you did say up-front that you would prefer our relationship to be open, and I agreed to it. At its base level, I can't object to you taking on another partner so long as you're still willing and able to make time for me."  
  
"Of course." Sören took Nicholas's hand, kissed it, and held it for a moment, wanting Nicholas to feel how much he was loved, and wanted.  
  
"But I do worry about you getting involved with him when he's... like this." Nicholas's brow furrowed. "I worry that he may not be able to handle a relationship and may cause harm to you if he goes off the rails again, or even if he maintains sobriety but is struggling while he puts his life back together. And I worry that you may end up playing therapist to him when you're really not qualified to do that -"  
  
"I'm not," Sören said, "if this evening weren't enough proof of that. But I feel like he needs... something. No, I don't want to be his therapist, his life coach. But I'm sure he must feel very alone right now, with Harrison no longer wanting anything to do with him, and Emily in another country. I don't want to take advantage of him, but he needs someone to lean on."  
  
"My worry is that, if he... wants you to be his dom... I worry that he'll push you into the caretaker role and end up monopolizing your time and energy, which is not only unfair to you and your life, and perhaps myself as well, but also creates a new sort of addiction, dependency for him, and that's not healthy for him."  
  
"Yeah. I want to be there for him, I want to encourage him, especially since I myself have struggled, and still struggle with mental health issues - my depression, my anxiety - and sometimes it's better to get support from someone who's sort of been there. And... when Anthony would tie me up and dominate me, it was a catharsis for both of us. It's a sort of catharsis I think Craig needs. But at the same time, you're right, I don't want to become a substitute for him getting the actual help he needs. Only an encouragement to get that help, and stick with it. There would have to be some firm boundaries in place, obviously." Sören chuckled and shook his head. "I can't believe I'm even entertaining this idea, or having this conversation."  
  
"It is very strange, but I suppose it could be stranger." Nicholas patted him. "If you want to pursue an arrangement with him, I shan't tell you no. I can only tell you be careful, and I will be monitoring to make sure that those boundaries are kept in place and he's not taking more than you should be giving."  
  
"That's fair."  
  
Sören leaned over and gave Nicholas a hug, appreciating how understanding he was with all of this. He also felt a little nervous, not knowing how the conversation would go with Craig. But with Craig's obvious erection while being commanded to kneel and beg, and likely Craig's discomfort about getting an erection, Sören knew it was probably better to talk to Craig sooner rather than later, so Craig wasn't ruminating and getting more and more upset, assuming as days went on that Sören hated him or thought badly of him. "I'll stop by tomorrow after work, if that's all right with you," Sören said.  
  
Nicholas nodded. He kissed Sören's cheek. "I was actually going to suggest that you talk to him tomorrow. I imagine that with regards to his response to you earlier, he must be very..."  
  
"Very."  
  
Nicholas chuckled, and Sören did too. Then Sören hit the light and snuggled down against Nicholas's chest. Nicholas's arms went around him and he stroked Sören's curls, rocking him gently. "Now sleep," Nicholas said. "You've got a long day ahead of you tomorrow."  
  
The day would feel even longer with the discussion with Craig waiting at the end of work. Sören closed his eyes and listened to Nicholas's heartbeat. Talking got enough of a weight off his shoulders that Sören began to relax, and soon enough sleep overcame him.


	4. An Arrangement

The next day, Craig wanted to hide in bed all day - Geir and Karen had made him get out of bed before they left the flat, and if he got back in bed while they were gone, it wasn't like they'd know, but Craig knew that would be dishonest and he was trying to not fall back into that behavior. He was at least grateful they were _both_ out of the house, as opposed to one of them staying behind to babysit.  
  
Craig tried to read a book - he picked out something random from Karen's collection, ended up with Tolstoy - but he couldn't concentrate. His mind kept replaying the humiliation of yesterday, sporting an erection when Sören had made him get down on his knees. But Craig was even more embarrassed by what happened later that night... as he'd lay in bed trying to get to sleep, he got turned on again thinking about being on his knees for Sören, being ordered around... being ordered to sexually service him. Being made to beg for his own release. Craig had brought himself off to an intense climax, so shattering that he fell asleep soon afterwards. Now the shame was here, in the waking day, that he'd thought of Sören like that... Sören probably was disgusted by him.  
  
Craig put down the book and stretched out on the couch, his face in his hands. He heard a key in the door and hoped it wasn't Karen or Geir getting back early, like they decided Craig needed a closer eye after all - and then he heard boots on the floor, just pausing, rather than walking all the way in. Craig took his hands off his face and saw Sören standing there, in jeans and a black sweater. That was even worse than the idea of Karen or Geir changing their plans to babysit him.  
  
"Karen and Geir aren't here right now," Craig said.  
  
Sören shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Actually, I didn't come here to see them." Their eyes met. "I came to see you."  
  
Craig's cheeks burned. He pointed to himself, blinking in disbelief, and Sören just nodded. Craig sat up and gestured to the armchair. "Um, sit down, I guess."  
  
Sören sat. There was a long, awkward silence, as if neither of them knew who should go first, or how to address the obvious elephant in the room. Finally Craig cleared his throat, and said, "I'm sorry about yesterday. I... didn't mean to make things weird with..."  
  
"That's also what I'm here about." Sören leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Craig, are you attracted to me?"  
  
Craig's mouth went dry. "Does... does it matter? Surely, you think I'm a total fuckup -"  
  
"I asked you a question," Sören said, his voice soft, but firm and commanding. His expression was stern now - Craig found that look of almost-anger arousing, his cock stirring again. "Tell me honestly."  
  
Craig nodded. "Yeah." He looked down. "I'm sorry -"  
  
"OK." Sören took a deep breath. He leaned forward, looked down as if he was gathering his thoughts, then back up. "You got turned on when I bossed you around, didn't you?"  
  
Craig wanted to bolt, but he knew there was no use lying. "Yes. Again, I'm sorry -"  
  
"Stop apologizing." Sören narrowed his eyes. "Get on your knees."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You heard me." Sören's voice was a little louder, and a lot firmer. "Get. On. Your. Knees."  
  
Craig knelt. Now his cock was hardening, and his heart was racing faster. Sören stood up, and Craig noticed the bulge in Sören's jeans, and Craig's cock _leapt_. He heard himself letting out a little moan as Sören undid his jeans and took down his boxer-briefs, letting his hard cock spring free. His cock had a Prince Albert ring in the head, and was uncut, long and thick. Craig couldn't help licking his lips at the sight of it.  
  
"You want to suck my cock, don't you?"  
  
"Yes, but..." Craig looked up, not wanting to cause any more drama than he already had. "Does... does Nicholas know? And..."  
  
"We talked about it last night. He knows I was planning on coming over after work to talk to you about stuff. But first, I've had a long, stressful day and I could use some relief, so if you want to suck me, get to work." With that, Sören stepped forward, his cock in Craig's face.  
  
Craig still couldn't believe this was happening - his filthiest, most forbidden fantasy made flesh - but he wasted no time, taking Sören's cock in his mouth like he was starving for it. Craig was fully hard now, and aching, and every moan Sören made just got his cock even harder; Craig could feel himself dripping precum in his pants. Sören put a hand on Craig's head, gently tugging his hair. "That's it," Sören growled. "Oh god, that's good..."  
  
"Mmmmmmmm." Craig loved it. He worked his tongue as he sucked, bobbing up and down on Sören's cock, greedily devouring.  
  
After a few minutes Sören had to sit down, shaking. Craig was still on his knees and put his head in Sören's lap. Sören gasped as Craig took the cock back in his mouth, this time focusing on just the head. Their eyes met and the look of lust in Sören's eyes sent a shiver through him.  
  
"You like this, don't you?" Sören asked, petting him.  
  
"Mmmmhmmmm." Craig took Sören's cock out of his mouth. "I fucking love it," he admitted, lapping hungrily at Sören's precum, making a show of chasing it with his tongue, before his tongue swirled around and around the head of Sören's cock, lashed the frenulum. He took the head of Sören's cock back in his mouth and resumed sucking, murmuring his pleasure in the act. "Mmmmmm. Mmmmmmmmm, mmmm."  
  
"Oh god." Sören shuddered. He bit his knuckles, eyes rolling. Craig knew he was getting closer; the thought of Sören coming in his mouth threatened to undo him, untouched. Sören's free hand stroked Craig's hair, pet his face. "So good. That's a good boy..."  
  
"Mmmmf!" Craig shivered, his cock jolting at that, hole twitching. Something about Sören calling him a good boy drove him wild. Now he took Sören's cock in his mouth as deep as he could go, almost gagging, sucking hard and fast. He couldn't do that for very long, so he focused on the head again, a hand reaching to gently rub the shaft.  
  
"Oh, _fuck._ God, that feels so fucking good. God..." Sören let out a breathy moan that Craig found incredibly sexy. "You're _such_ a good boy."  
  
Craig whimpered. He was starting to lose it. He slowed down, teasing them both. Then he teased Sören even more by licking the head again, wanting Sören to see how much he loved doing this, hoping Sören would let him do this again. And again.  
  
"That's right," Sören purred. "You want to be my little cocksucker, don't you?"  
  
"Oh god..." Craig whimpered again. He took the head of Sören's cock back in his mouth and sucked more urgently - he did want that, desperately, craving it like a new drug. The thought of Sören coming over and using him made Craig crazy with need. It was as if Sören had unleashed some sort of animal Craig kept locked away inside him.  
  
"That's a good boy. I'm getting close." Sören grit his teeth and made a feral noise that made Craig's cock throb. "You want me to come in your mouth?"  
  
"Mmmmhmmm. _Mmmmhmmmm._ Mmmmmm. _Mmmmmmm._ "  
  
The next few moments felt like an eternity - Craig wanted to keep sucking Sören's cock, but he also wanted to make Sören come. He studied every expression on Sören's face, every twitch of his body, every flutter of Sören's lashes, every moan Sören made, and at last Craig could feel Sören tensing, grabbing Craig's head with both hands as he started panting. Sören threw back his head and let out a cry as he flooded Craig's mouth with hot, salty-sweet seed. Craig drank it down like it was ambrosia, savoring the taste of him... savoring the realization that Sören didn't hate him, wasn't disgusted by him, that Sören wanted him too.  
  
Craig let Sören recover - admiring the beauty of him, relaxed, a little smile on his face. Craig's own cock felt ready to explode and after Sören had rested for a few minutes he patted the seat next to him on the couch. "Jerk off for me," Sören said.  
  
Craig undid his jeans and got his cock out and did as he was told, stroking fast and furious, already so close. When he felt ready to shoot, he ground out, "Tissue," not wanting to make a mess. But then Sören's hand covered his and he shot into Sören's hand, watching his seed flood over Sören's skin, as if he were marking him. Sören brought his fingers up to his mouth to taste, and Craig almost wept from physical relief and that show of acceptance.  
  
"Here," Sören said, gesturing for Craig to come closer. He did, and then Sören pulled him into a hug... cradling him.  
  
Craig held back the tears, not wanting to ruin this moment of peace. Not wanting to scare Sören off. Sören just pet him for a moment, and Craig let himself be soothed by Sören's touch. Craig felt a sting of jealousy, hoping Karen and Geir appreciated this.  
  
Finally Sören spoke. "OK. So... what we just did."  
  
 _Oh god, he's going to say we can't do that again._ Craig felt his heart sinking.  
  
Sören took Craig's chin in his hand and made Craig look him in the eye. "I figured out yesterday, when you got hard after me... bossing you around... that you need a dom."  
  
"A..."  
  
"A dominant. Someone who, ah... tells you what to do, in a sexy way. Sometimes doms also tell their submissives what to do outside of the bedroom." Sören raised an eyebrow. "Something tells me you could use some guidance."  
  
Craig gave a nervous laugh. "That's... one way of putting it."  
  
"Yeah." Sören nodded slowly. "So... that's what I'm offering. You can be one of my side partners, and I'll check in on you and... give you some help, as needed. You'll still need to do the heavy lifting of your own recovery, but I can be a sort of cheerleader or coach. And reward you. Give you incentives for good behavior. Mind, you should be doing it without that, for your own well-being. But a little positive reinforcement probably couldn't hurt."  
  
Most of Craig wanted this - he was terrified after his second overdose, feeling like his life had spun out of control. The idea of Sören helping him was comforting. But there was a small part of him that resisted... reacting out of wounded pride, not wanting anyone's help, not wanting to be _weak._  
  
 _And a fine job you've done of "going it alone". You ended up back on drugs, two overdoses... you're living on someone's couch._  
  
There was more to it than that. "I don't want pity," Craig said, cheeks hot with shame again.  
  
Sören gave a wry smile. "Craig, my dick doesn't lie. This wasn't pity, for me. I have compassion for what you're going through - I was a bit too rough on you yesterday, and I'm sorry about that - but it's not the same as feeling sorry for you. I don't think you're some pathetic, helpless thing who will absolutely die if I don't save you. I hate to see someone with a lot of potential throw it away. I want to be there for you." Sören leaned in and kissed the tip of Craig's nose. "And you're cute."  
  
Now Craig's cheeks burned with something other than shame. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt himself smiling. "You think I'm cute?"  
  
"Yeah, I do." Sören narrowed his eyes. "You'd be cuter if you had your shit together. But... I want to believe in you."  
  
Craig rested his head on Sören's shoulder for a moment, letting himself relax into Sören's touch, weighing the offer in his mind. He _really_ liked what they just did, and he wanted more. He knew he needed help. He knew he needed friendship. Now the resistance wasn't pride, but fear - he didn't want to let Sören down. He didn't want to fuck up yet another thing, and have yet another person be angry and disappointed with him.  
  
But when he looked in those warm brown eyes, tender instead of angry, he wanted to believe in Sören's belief. He wanted to believe that maybe _this time_ things would work out.  
  
Craig knew it wasn't even a this time; it felt like this was the last time, his last chance.  
  
But now it felt like there was something more, beyond Karen and Geir's pity, and surviving day to day. Someone was willing to reach out to him, see some sort of goodness in him it felt like others forgot about, especially his ex-best-friend.  
  
"OK," Craig said. "I accept."  
  
"Good." Sören came closer, and their lips met for the first time. Craig moaned as their lips parted and their tongues played together in slow, lazy circles, then more insistently, kissing each other harder, deeper, passion rising. Craig reached out to touch Sören's face and Sören covered Craig's hand with his, his touch so warm, almost seeming to radiate.  
  
They pulled apart, breathless. Craig wondered if they were going to go another round, but Sören got up. "I'll be back in a few days to check on you," Sören said. "And we'll... take it from there."  
  
"Thank you," Craig said.  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow. "Thank you, what?"  
  
Craig realized he had to play the game. Craig cleared his throat and said, "Thank you, Sir."  
  
Sören gave him a hug - Craig never wanted to let go - and when Sören finally drew back, he patted Craig's ass. "I'll see you later." Sören headed for the door and then he stopped, and looked over his shoulder. "Craig, one thing?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
Sören flashed him a wicked grin. "Don't touch yourself till I see you again."  
  
Craig sighed. That kiss had gotten him worked up and he was thinking about jerking off again before Karen or Geir got home. But he realized this was a test of his obedience... and his honesty. He _could_ relieve himself and Sören wouldn't know, but then he'd have to lie and Sören probably would be able to tell. Craig nodded, and Sören said, "Good boy," and blew a kiss before he walked off.  
  
Craig leaned against the door after he closed it. This was not something he would have ever foreseen himself getting into, but then, he'd never foreseen himself falling into drugs, either. If this was his guide for the way back... he'd take it.  
  
He just hoped Sören would make it worth it for waiting a few days to come again. He was _horny_.


	5. More Than This

Four days later, Sören made good on his promise to check on Craig. He chose a time when he knew both Karen and Geir would be out - Karen at school, Geir at orchestra practice - though he himself would be working overnight that night, and usually when he did overnight shifts he preferred to sleep as late as he could get away with, taking a minimal amount of time to get ready for work, so this cut into his sleep a bit. But it was for a worthy cause.  
  
Sören had enjoyed giving Craig his first taste of domination a bit more than he thought he would. Sören still thought of himself as primarily submissive - one of the things he missed most about Anthony was the games they used to play, the way Anthony made him surrender - but he couldn't deny the thrill he'd felt of getting Craig on his knees. His cock was already half-hard by the time he arrived at Karen and Geir's flat, in his scrubs.  
  
Sören had called Craig to let him know he was on his way, and before he could put his keys in the door, Craig opened it, hearing Sören in the hall. For a moment they just stood and looked at each other - Craig was wearing a blue sweater that brought out the blue of his eyes, and Sören admired him - then Sören stepped forward, pulled Craig close to him, and their mouths crushed together in a deep, fierce, passionate kiss. Sören went from half-hard to fully hard at the feel of Craig's tongue teasing his, the way Craig trembled in his arms, the little sigh of pleasure before they kissed again.  
  
Sören marched Craig towards the couch, which Craig had folded out into his bed in anticipation of the visit, and they kissed again and again. Craig's hands slid over Sören's scrub top, a thumb rubbing a nipple through the fabric of Sören's scrubs and the long-sleeved shirt Sören wore underneath to hide his tattoos for dress code regulations. Sören groaned, and started kissing Craig's neck, cock throbbing at the sound of the shuddery gasp Craig made, the feel of Craig hard in his jeans.  
  
But before they could indulge in pleasure, Sören had business. He sat on the armchair and Craig gave him a disappointed, expectant look, like he wanted sex NOW. Sören couldn't help laugh a little - he found that needy-puppy-dog face adorable and irresistible. "Sit down for a minute," Sören said.  
  
Craig sat on the edge of the couch-bed and folded his hands between his knees.  
  
"First of all, did you behave yourself?" Sören raised an eyebrow. "No touching yourself the last few days, like I asked?"  
  
Craig nodded, looking into Sören's eyes. "Yes, Sir. It was a difficult challenge, but I obeyed."  
  
"Good," Sören said. He leaned back. "What else have you been up to this week, besides behaving?"  
  
"Reading. Playing video games. Uh... nothing really exciting." Craig gave a sheepish little smile.  
  
"So... no therapy sessions or anything?"  
  
"Er, no." Craig looked down, and shifted his posture slightly, knowing that was the wrong answer.  
  
"OK." Sören exhaled sharply. "You... really need to be in treatment. I'm surprised Karen and Geir haven't gotten on you about that."  
  
Craig looked up and frowned. "I was in treatment after the first overdose, I was in rehab and then I went to, you know, 12-step meetings. They're not for me, they talk about God and stuff, and... I'm nominally Church of England but I don't do the religion thing -"  
  
Sören put up a hand. When he'd decided to take on this role for Craig he knew he wasn't a specialist in addiction medicine - he was a neurosurgeon - and he'd had a few discussions with contacts in the NHS both with regards to what Craig's next steps should be, and how to get there. "I'm not asking you to go inpatient. But I _do_ think you need weekly sessions with a therapist, and you _do_ need a support group. There are recovery groups that aren't 12-step."  
  
"I know. It's... it's hard, to talk to someone about what's going on with me." Craig frowned. "And it's harder when I know I should have started doing it already, and I haven't, I've been dragging my feet..." Craig rubbed his temples and then he buried his face in his hands. "I'm trying to find my way back and I've already gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm such a fuckup -"  
  
"Craig, I didn't say that."  
  
"But it's true. I'm a fuckup. I fuck everything up -"  
  
" _Craig._ " Sören's tone was stern, because he had to be. "Take your hands off your face and _look at me._ "  
  
Craig took his hands down and looked up, meeting Sören's eyes. Craig's eyes were too bright - on the verge of tears. Sören swallowed hard, remembering the way his aunt and uncle used to tell him _you can't do anything right_ growing up, punishing him severely for acts like accidentally spilling a drink. Internalizing those messages had almost cost him his medical career. He got the sense Craig's parents were better than his guardians - of course, that was a very low bar - but he also knew from Anthony's background that men in Britain were expected to "stiff upper lip" their way through life, to be strong and successful and self-reliant, and Craig was probably taking his second overdose as a sign of failure, especially when he'd been making his way in the world as an investment banker.  
  
"You are not a fuckup," Sören said, and he meant it. "I know I was too harsh on you some days ago, and I'm sorry about that. But you. Are. Not. A. Fuckup."  
  
"I am." Craig looked down. "And I shouldn't need you as a crutch -"  
  
"There's a difference between using someone as a crutch, and leaning on a friend. People need people, Craig." Sören thought about all the years he had no friends - bullied in school, then overworked; Anthony had been his only source of companionship while they were together. Sören knew Craig was also taking the loss of his friendship with Ben very hard. "Listen, I'm a doctor. I took an oath to do no harm. If I thought that this... arrangement we have... was going to interfere with your recovery, I wouldn't. But you're not weak for wanting and needing a bit of support, and comfort. It's human."  
  
Craig sighed.  
  
Sören felt frustrated - not just because he cared about Craig and knew that Craig being this hard on himself would create temptation to use to escape the bad feelings, but also because he recognized this same sort of mentality in himself. In some ways, reaching out to take care of Craig was like assuring and validating the hurt, vulnerable part of himself. He knew part of why he'd gone off on Craig some days back was because he, too, could have gone down the same route of addiction, back in his party days in Reykjavik.  
  
He needed to stop the downward spiral now, before it got worse. He thought for a minute of what he could say or do to send a message to Craig besides his words. Then it came to him. "Take your clothes off."  
  
Craig's frown became a little smirk. Sören liked that smartassed look on his face, the mischief in his eyes. Craig stood up, and immediately took his shirt off.  
  
Sören watched Craig as he got naked, his cock hardening. Craig had a nice body - lean, clear skin. No chest hair, but a fine growth of sandy hair on his arms and legs, and a neatly trimmed sandy bush framing a thick cock that was also hard and starting to drip precum. Craig's cock twitched as Sören looked at it; Sören wanted to taste his precum.  
  
Craig looked at Sören with hungry eyes, like he was waiting for Sören to get undressed also. Sören would, in time, but first he had something to do. He patted his lap. "Come lay across my lap."  
  
Since Sören was in an armchair, it wasn't quite an easy fit. Craig leaned on his arms on the armchair, with his hard cock against Sören's thigh, his firm bubble butt right where Sören could see it. Sören rubbed and squeezed Craig's ass for a minute. "Nice." Sören's cock throbbed at the sight of the pink puckered hole, thinking of what it would be like to fuck Craig in different positions... the sounds Craig would make. Hearing him beg for more. _Fuck._  
  
Then Sören slapped Craig's ass, hard. Craig let out a moan, and thrust his ass out like he wanted another. Sören rubbed where he'd just slapped, and then his other hand reached out to take Craig's chin, and turn Craig's head to look at him, with Sören leaning over so he could get a better look. "You," Sören said, "are not a fuckup. You are not going to call yourself that." Sören slapped Craig's ass again. Craig gasped and quivered, and gave an urgent little whimper.  
  
 _He likes that. Good._  
  
"You are not going to argue with me when I tell you not to put yourself down. You belong to me now. I am not going to allow you to hurt yourself. That doesn't just mean no more drugs, but it also means no more beating yourself up so you make yourself miserable and crazy and get the urge to use." Sören slapped Craig's ass again. "The only person who gets to hurt you is me, and now I'm going to spank you to remind you of that. If you don't want me to, you can tell me no, and if it hurts too much, you can tell me to stop. Otherwise..."  
  
"Please," Craig said. "Teach me a lesson, Sir." He bowed his head.  
  
Sören's cock throbbed again. He rubbed Craig's ass some more, and then he slapped one cheek, hard. Then the other. He went back and forth between Craig's ass cheeks, spanking and spanking, counting to twenty. Craig panted, grinding against Sören's thigh, whimpering. Sören could feel the leg of his scrubs getting soaked from Craig's precum, and Sören himself was dripping, fighting the urge to shove his fingers in Craig's ass and ready him to be fucked. By the time Sören got to seventeen, Craig was a trembling, gasping wreck, and when Sören delivered the final blow to Craig's ass, Craig gave a little sob, and begged, "Please Sir, can I have some more."  
  
"Not this time," Sören said. _He's a pain slut too._ Sören put that information on file in his mind. He couldn't see himself ever getting into whips and chains, but he thought about buying a paddle down the road.  
  
Sören rubbed Craig's ass to soothe the stinging flesh - and admired his handiwork, the way Craig's ass was red and rosy now. Then he rubbed Craig's back, too - both firmer kneading to relax him, and more slow, sensual caressing to arouse him. Craig melted into Sören's touch, making contented noises. "That's nice," Craig said finally.  
  
Sören's fingers walked down Craig's spine, and brushed as they got lower. When his fingers hit the base of Craig's spine and played down his ass crack, Craig shuddered and groaned, and Sören's cock jolted in response. "You don't know how bad I want to fuck this hot little arse of yours," Sören husked, "but... not today."  
  
Craig looked over and pouted, and Sören couldn't help laughing a little. He patted Craig's ass and then he said, "Sit on my lap."  
  
Craig climbed down, and then sat gingerly on Sören's lap - still naked, while Sören was in his scrubs. Very tented in his scrubs. Sören's body was screaming for release, and he knew Craig's was too. But now he had to address one of the things he'd been meaning to discuss with Craig. "OK, so," Sören said, "you know I'm not monogamous, and I'm not expecting you to be, either. My policy is the same as it is for everyone else - if you want to fuck other people, I just want to know about it." He tried to not get himself started thinking of the day he came home and found Anthony in bed with that pretty boy Scott. _Scotty2Hotty._ Sören's teeth clenched at the memory of the Grindr profile. He shoved that memory away, and went on. "When I got back into dating people, I went on something called Truvada, which is a daily medication for HIV prevention. I'm not going to force you to take something, but I'm also not going all the way with you unless you're also taking Truvada, because I don't want to put myself or my other partners at risk." Sören decided to spare Craig the part about how people with substance abuse history had a higher rate of HIV transmission - Craig had said before he'd never touched heroin, and Sören believed him, but Sören also knew if Craig relapsed again, he could throw caution to the wind with sexual activity so it was just better to be safe than sorry. Just the same, Sören was hoping Craig wouldn't relapse.  
  
"All right," Craig said, seemingly nonchalant about Sören's request. "I can talk to my doctor about it."  
  
"I'd also like you to get tested for HIV every three to six months, like I do."  
  
"I can do that too."  
  
"And speaking of doctors..." Sören's eyes narrowed. "I meant what I said earlier. If I'm going to be a friend to lean on and not a crutch, that also means I can't be the only person helping you. I'm a neurosurgeon, not a psychologist." Sören reached in his pocket for his phone and pulled up a folder where he'd made notes of contact info for Craig. "I want you to get this information down, somewhere. This is a clinic that's right near the National, where I work. They have several programs. One is called 'partial hospital' - it's not like being inpatient because you get to go home every day, but you're at the clinic most of the day, and the people I talked to, saying I needed information for a friend, recommended that you start with this program for two or three weeks. After that, they have less intensive programs - you should meet with a therapist weekly, and there's a few different support groups that meet once or more than once a week. Including recovery support groups that aren't 12-step, but are designed to be humanist-friendly."  
  
Craig exhaled, looking uncomfortable, but then he nodded, got up, rummaged around for his phone - the sight of Craig naked, fishing for his phone, was amusing and adorable to Sören - and then Craig sat back down on Sören's lap and began to copy the information into his phone.  
  
"Also," Sören said, "I can start giving you my schedule, so if you're in the neighborhood before or after an appointment, and I happen to be on break, you're welcome to join me on my break. We can get a bite to eat or some coffee, take a walk, sit in the park..."  
  
Craig smiled at this. "That's... that's good incentive, seeing you."  
  
Sören was touched by that. He stroked Craig's face and then, feeling tender, leaned in and kissed the tip of Craig's nose. Craig's cheeks turned pink and his smile got bigger. Sören tousled Craig's hair. He watched as Craig continued putting the information in his phone, and then Sören said, "There's some bigger incentive here. When you've been sober for a year... I'll let you top me."  
  
Craig laughed, and Sören did too, but then Craig gave him a sultry look - Sören knew Craig liked _that_ idea - and then he bit his lower lip as he finished putting the information in his phone. When it was set, Craig said, "I'll start making phone calls tomorrow."  
  
"Good," Sören said. "That's a good boy."  
  
Now Craig's expression was hungry. Sören was hungry too. "On your knees," Sören said softly.  
  
Craig knelt on the floor. Sören stood up and pulled off his shirt, then the long-sleeved T-shirt he wore underneath. He took off his shoes, and dropped his scrub pants and boxer-briefs, freeing his hard cock.  
  
Craig had seen Sören's cock - and the Prince Albert piercing in the head, with a captive bead ring - and Sören knew Craig had seen the ends of his sleeve tattoos. This was the first time Craig was seeing him completely naked, and Sören watched those blue eyes take in the sight of the way Sören's ink went all the way up his arms - fire on one side, ocean waves on the other, which led out to the work on his back, a tattoo he'd designed himself of a firebird, and a phoenix made of water, tails twined. Craig's eyes lingered on the rings in Sören's nipples, then went down to stare at Sören's cock, fully hard and dripping precum.  
  
"You like what you see?" Sören asked.  
  
Craig nodded, lips parted slightly, pupils blown wide.  
  
Sören came closer, his cock in Craig's face. Before Craig could take it into his mouth, his hands slid up Sören's torso. "You are so fucking hot," Craig whispered. He grinned and added, "You look like... a rock star, or something."  
  
Sören laughed and tousled Craig's hair. "Right now I'm rock hard." Sören rubbed his cock against Craig's lips. "Show me what you got."  
  
Craig swallowed down as much as he could of Sören's cock, looking up at him with something like worship in his eyes. Then Craig's eyes narrowed and Sören could see the lust there - and a bit of mischief, like Craig reveled in pleasing Sören just as much as Sören enjoyed dominating him. After a moment of sucking away at the shaft, hard and fast, Craig pulled the cock out of his mouth, chased the precum with his tongue, and drew the head back into his mouth, sucking on it, rubbing his tongue, as his hand gently stroked up and down Sören's shaft.  
  
Sören groaned and his knees buckled. He tugged at Craig's hair. "Let's sixty-nine," Sören said.  
  
"Mmmmmhmmmm."  
  
Sören helped Craig up and, before Craig could get on the foldout bed, Sören pulled him close and they kissed deeply, hard cocks rubbing together. Their hands explored each other's bodies, and then they just held each other, kissing again and again. When Sören started kissing Craig's neck, Craig let out a moan that made Sören want to ream the life out of him. But today was not that day.  
  
They got into position on the foldout bed. Sören lay on his back and patted himself. Craig climbed on top of him, and they moaned together as they both began to suck. One of the things Sören loved about the sixty-nine position was being able to caress his lover's spine, and as Sören sucked away at Craig's cock his fingers started walking up and down Craig's spine again, sliding up and down, brushing in lazy circles. Craig moaned louder and sucked harder, faster, as Sören worked on his back.  
  
Sören was tempted to put his tongue in Craig's hole - Craig smelled clean - but he decided he'd wait a bit for rimming, like next time or some session thereafter. It was enough to suck Craig's cock as his was sucked. Sören loved having his mouth full of cock, worshiping it, and he loved that Craig loved it too, sucking with hunger and enthusiasm. They were both worked up from that spanking, and Sören knew it wouldn't be long, but he made himself hold back, wanting to keep sucking, wanting the pleasure Craig was giving him to keep building and building, where nothing else in the world mattered except their passion, their need.  
  
When Craig got closer he started working his hips, gently fucking Sören's mouth. Sören slapped Craig's ass, and Craig moaned with his mouth full. "I'm so fucking close," Craig rasped, taking a few greedy licks at Sören's cock before taking it back into his mouth.  
  
"Mmmmmm. Want to taste you." Sören licked at Craig's cock too, teasing him. Then he couldn't resist. "Want to reward my good boy."  
  
"Oh god." Craig drew Sören's cock back into his mouth and gave an urgent whine as he sucked harder.  
  
"Mmmmhmmmm." Sören took a few more licks. "That's a good boy. You're not a fuckup at all. You're a good boy who's made some bad decisions." Sören sucked at Craig's head, then swirled his tongue around and around the head before he purred, "You're my good boy."  
  
"Mmmmmmfff!"  
  
Sören quickly wrapped his lips around Craig's cock again. Craig gave three thrusts and then Sören's mouth was filled with warm, sweet seed. Craig coming in his mouth set Sören off, and the way Craig gave deep "mmmmmm" noises of contentment as he drank Sören's cum made Sören's orgasm all the more intense, trembling, even his thighs quivering as he let go.  
  
Sören lay there catching his breath, licking his lips to savor his boy's taste. Craig climbed down, turned around, and came up to kiss Sören. Sören sighed at the taste of them together, and the way their tongues played between kisses made Sören crave more - but he needed to go to work.  
  
Craig seemed to sense Sören had to go, pulling back when Sören hesitated. "It's not you," Sören said, even though he was sure Craig knew he was on his way to work from the scrubs, Sören felt he needed to assure Craig anyway. "I have to work."  
  
Craig nodded. "I wish you could stay longer."  
  
"Me too." Sören gave him a little peck. "One of these days. But in the meantime..." Sören gave him a sweet, soft, lingering kiss. "That was fun."  
  
"It was." Craig smiled. "Thank you for... taking care of me."  
  
Sören pinched Craig's cheek and booped his nose, feeling tender, and somewhat protective. "I'm going to give you five days to get on Truvada and set everything up at the clinic before I come over again." He got up and started putting his clothes back on. "You can touch yourself, but you have to ask me first. Send me a text." He wanted Craig to get in the habit of asking if he needed extra comfort or support, instead of playing the "stiff upper lip" game, and he thought this would be a good way to help him form that habit.  
  
"What if you're not around?"  
  
"My phone's always on, so even if I'm sleeping, I'll still get it, because it might be work calling me in. That happens sometimes." _Sometimes at the most inconvenient times._ Sören made a face, remembering a time within the last month where he and Nicholas were making love and work called him in. "Just the same though, try to be mindful of my schedule." Sören grabbed his phone again, pulled it up, and passed it over. "Any time that I work overnight, assume I'm sleeping during the day, and I get crankier about being woken up then."  
  
Craig looked up from Sören's phone - still naked - his mouth parted as he realized. "You're working overnight tonight?"  
  
Sören nodded. "I cut my sleep time a little short to come see you."  
  
Craig nodded, and then he blinked... his eyes were too bright again. He quickly copied down Sören's schedule into the calendar on his phone, trying to compose himself, but when he was done, he was obviously choked up. Sören came back over, now fully dressed, and gave Craig a tight hug... trying not to get worked up again at the sight and feel of Craig's naked body.  
  
"You OK?" Sören asked, tilting Craig's chin up so Craig could meet his eyes, then he stroked Craig's cheek.  
  
"Yeah, I'm just." Craig sniffled. "I know you work a lot and don't get enough rest sometimes, so taking the time to come here and..."  
  
Sören put a finger to Craig's lips. "None of that fuckup shit." He patted Craig's shoulder. "I told you, I care. You need a friend. I need friends too. This is what friends do for each other, within reason."  
  
They hugged again, and then Sören took Craig's underwear and playfully threw it at him. "Put some damn clothes on before I get tempted to make myself late for work."  
  
Craig chuckled and did as he was told. When he was dressed, he glanced awkwardly at the kitchen, and back at Sören. "Do you, uh... want anything before you go? Coffee, tea, something to eat..."  
  
"I want another hug," Sören said. Hugs felt nice, and he knew Craig needed them.  
  
They hugged, and then Craig walked him to the door. "Thank you, again -"  
  
Sören silenced him with a kiss. What was meant to be a tender little kiss deepened, heated, making them both groan; Sören gave a growl as they pulled apart, wishing he had more time. He slapped Craig's ass, and Craig gave him that naughty grin that Sören was getting very fond of.  
  
"I'll see you in five days. In the meantime, text me. Once a day to let me know how you're doing, and... any other time if you need to relieve yourself." Sören hoped that wouldn't get him aroused at work, but it was what it was.  
  
"All right."  
  
Sören blew a kiss on his way out; Craig blew one back. Sören had a little spring in his step as he came out of Geir and Karen's building. His optimism was cautious - he knew there was a possibility Craig could relapse, and he worried about getting too attached in light of that - but he wanted to believe in Craig...  
  
...just like the hurt boy he once was, who believed he couldn't do anything right, had needed someone to believe in him, too.


	6. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for Craig discussing being raped by Justin Roberts.

Craig started his prescription for Truvada on the day he started going to the mental health clinic for their outpatient addiction program. He saw Sören a few times over that first week, heading to the National when he got out of appointments or had a break between workshops, if Sören's schedule said he was on break. It was nice to spend time with him, nicer still that Sören was encouraging and positive; Karen and Geir were still walking on eggshells and acting like they expected a relapse anytime now.  
  
Craig knew he could fall for Sören very easily - he was already at least a little in love with him; every time he met Sören in the National's cafe he felt himself blushing, heart racing, stomach fluttering, not able to wipe the smile off his face. He was trying to get better for himself, and not just to please Sören, but nonetheless, knowing that Sören _was_ pleased with his progress, however small, made a world of difference, after feeling like a fuckup who couldn't do anything right, for so long.  
  
On Thursday afternoon, Sören was in the cafe first, and when Craig made a beeline, Sören rose from the table and gave him a big hug. Craig was pleased that Sören remembered what kind of coffee he liked, and already had it ready for him. As they chatted about what Sören's workday was like, and what Craig was doing today in his outpatient group, Sören started playing footsie with him under the table and Craig felt downright giddy. After they finished their coffee, Sören took him on a walk in Queen's Square - it was one of those April days that was starting to feel like spring was here, with the sunshine and budding trees, though it was still brisk outside. It felt somewhat romantic, being out here in the blooming spring, and Craig found himself pausing to give Sören a hug, and initiated a kiss.  
  
Sören kissed him back, deep and fiery. Craig's cock stirred in his jeans and when they pulled apart Sören looked down at the bulge with a smirk. Then Sören asked, "What was that for?"  
  
"You being you," Craig said.  
  
Sören took his hand, and reached over with his other hand to boop Craig's nose before resuming leading him around the park. Craig felt almost like a dog being walked by his owner, and his mind's eye conjured the mental image of Sören walking him on a leash and he found himself _really_ liking that idea but he didn't say anything about it, not wanting to come off as too freaky.  
  
They sat on the steps of St. George's Church and Sören pulled Craig's head onto his shoulder, gently rubbing his head, petting. Craig melted into the touch, and they just rested like that for a few minutes before Sören said, "So, ah, do you have plans for Saturday evening?"  
  
Craig snorted. "I have no life." Then he realized how that sounded - if Sören was asking to spend time with him, he didn't want Sören to feel like he was accepting for lack of anything else to do. He quickly added, "But if you're free, you are my plans." He raised an eyebrow. "Nicholas won't mind?"  
  
Sören patted him. "I work overnight on Friday into Saturday and he and I are going to get some quality time before then, if you get my drift, so he's going to need that time to recover. And he and Karen want to go see some art film I'm not interested in, so I asked if they wanted to do that Saturday so I could take some time with you... reward you for completing your first week of treatment."  
  
Craig smiled, feeling touched by that. "Awww, you make one week sound like a big deal."  
  
"Well, considering how reluctant you were to get help, it is," Sören said. "You're being a good boy, and I'd... like to be good to my good boy." Sören cupped Craig's chin, picked his head up, and kissed the tip of his nose before their mouths met, tongues playing together in a promise of what Sören could do with that mouth.  
  
Then Sören leaned in and whispered, "I'd really like to fuck that pretty ass of yours."  
  
Craig's breath hitched. He'd fantasized about Sören inside him, which itself felt like an accomplishment considering he hadn't had anyone inside him since Justin Roberts raped him earlier in the year. Part of him was still nervous about bottoming again, remembering the pain, the bleeding, the way Justin had delighted in Craig's fear... but Sören wasn't like that. Before Justin had raped him, Craig had preferred to bottom with male partners, enjoying the intensity of prostate orgasms and that feeling of giving up control. He wanted to take back that pleasure, and give it to a man he was starting to have feelings for, an act of intimacy.  
  
"I'd like that too," Craig said.  
  
"Good." They kissed again. Sören grinned as he stroked Craig's cheek. Then he started kissing Craig's neck and husked, "I'd like to make my good boy come hard."  
  
Craig shivered, fists clenching, wanting to grab Sören, push him back on the steps of the cathedral and ride him right there. Sören's grin was wicked now as he pulled back.  
  
"Shit, I need to not be all horny when I go back to the clinic," Craig said with a nervous laugh. "Don't need to stroll in there with a hard-on like 'what's up, everyone? I am.'"  
  
Sören laughed. "I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry." Sören took out his phone and Craig watched as he did an Internet search, and then Sören showed him a picture. "Look, it's Margaret Thatcher. If that doesn't kill your boner I don't know what will."  
  
Craig cackled as his erection started to go down. "Thanks, Sören, you're so helpful."  
  
"I try."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Saturday night came, and Craig had the flat to himself - Geir was at a late orchestra practice, and Karen was at the cinema with Nicholas. After Sören woke up from his post-shift nap, he texted Craig to see what Craig wanted for dinner.  
  
 _I'm easy,_ Craig texted back with a wink emoji.  
  
 _Are you now._  
  
 _Yeah, I'm flexible._ Another wink emoji.  
  
 _We'll see about that._ Sören sent the text with an eggplant emoji, a peach emoji, and water drops. Craig snickered, even as he was blushing fiercely, feeling flustered.  
  
That giddy, flustered feeling grew as Craig waited for Sören's arrival. He tidied up his space in the living room - again - and paced around, checking his watch frequently. When he heard Sören's keys in the door he _ran_ , eager as a puppy dog, and when he opened the door he beamed at the sight of Sören.  
  
He felt a little self-conscious then, hoping Sören wouldn't think he was too needy, but Sören just smiled back and gave Craig a sweet little kiss, then a deeper one, smoldering and sensual. When they pulled back Craig finally noticed the pizza boxes Sören was carrying.  
  
"I know it's not the healthiest thing in the world," Sören said, "or the most extravagant -"  
  
"I love pizza," Craig said sincerely, taking the boxes from Sören and bringing them to the kitchen. "It smells good."  
  
"Yeah, it does. I worked up an appetite walking over here." Sören smirked, his words smothered with innuendo.  
  
Craig's face was on fire, and he almost dropped the plates when he got them out of the cupboard, feeling nervous and excited all at once. Before Craig opened the box Sören said, "I assume sausage is OK?"  
  
"I love sausage," Craig said.  
  
"I bet," Sören muttered.  
  
Craig laughed - it felt so good to laugh like this, after being so sad for so long. One of the things he liked most about his now-former-friend Ben, and missed the most, was Ben's raunchy sense of humor. Craig appreciated how naughty Sören was - people weren't interchangeable or replaceable, Craig still missed Ben's friendship, but nonetheless, he'd gotten something back that had been lost.  
  
They snuggled up on the couch eating pizza, watching reruns of _Sherlock_. Sören amused Craig by coming up with as many variations of "Benedict Cumberbatch" as he could, like "Benadryl Cucumber", "Wimbledon Splishnsplash", "Bettyboop Cameltoe", "Snozzlebert Toodlesnoot", "Botany Chickenstrips", "Buttercup Chowderpants", "Bourgeoisie Cummerbund", "Blasphemy Carrotstick", "Syphilis Humperdinck", "Blubberdick Crackerdong" and what Craig thought was the best, "Fragglerock Rivendell", until Craig was in stitches, laughing till he cried.  
  
"I mean," Craig said when he calmed down, "I can't really talk, considering my own surname of Fetherstonhaugh is considered posh and uppity."  
  
Sören's eyebrow went up. "Wait, you pronounce your surname 'Fan-shaw'? I always thought, seeing it on paper, it was Feather-ston-haw."  
  
Craig shook his head, laughing. "No, it's pronounced 'Fan-shaw'. Really."  
  
"What."  
  
"It's not like Icelandic names are easy to pronounce, either."  
  
"Sure they are," Sören said. He grinned and tore off a bite of pizza before he said, "Eyjafjallajökull."  
  
"Yeah, see, I can't bloody pronounce that."  
  
"Kirkjubæjarklaustur. Fjaðrárgljúfur." Sören's grin was evil now, eyes full of mischief. "Vaðlaheiðarvegavinnuverkfærageymsluskúrslyklakippuhringurinn."  
  
Craig almost choked on his pizza. "You made that up."  
  
"I did not."  
  
"What does that even mean."  
  
"The key ring to the tool work shed in the road works of Vaðlaheiði. It's a mountain road in northern Iceland."  
  
Craig's jaw dropped. He felt like an idiot sitting there with his mouth open, but Sören just gave him a nose kiss and a pat.  
  
"Was it hard for you to learn English?" Craig asked.  
  
Sören shook his head. "I started learning it in school when I was six. Most of my schooling was in Icelandic, of course, but they start kids learning English at a young age because it's the lingua franca for most of the world, hardly anybody speaks Icelandic outside of Iceland, after all. And, I came here in 2010, and speak English so often now that my thoughts are pretty much half in English, half in Icelandic. I still end up slipping back to my native language when emotions are running high -"  
  
"Yeah," Craig said, remembering Sören yelling at him in Icelandic a few short weeks ago.  
  
"- but even before I got in the habit of speaking English most of the time, it wasn't that hard. I also speak Danish as a third language."  
  
"Wow," Craig said. "I don't think I know anyone else who can speak three languages. Or more."  
  
"Nick can, he speaks Greek and Latin as well as English and French. And my ex Anthony majored in linguistics before he did his diploma conversion for law and he can speak _a lot_ of languages. Actually when he and I first met, he knew I was Scandinavian by my accent and he guessed Swedish, and asked me in Swedish if I was from Sweden." Sören's smile was sad and wistful now. "His pet name for me was IKEA."  
  
"Awww, that's cute."  
  
"Jæja." Sören sighed and looked down. "Sorry, I shouldn't talk about my ex, I know that's rude -"  
  
"No, it's OK." Now Craig was the one to give a reassuring pat. "I know it still hurts."  
  
"It does." Their eyes met. "But I'm moving on. I gotta... keep moving on."  
  
"We can lean on each other."  
  
As much as Craig didn't like that Sören had gotten his heart broken, it nonetheless helped to be in solidarity over a bad breakup. Craig wasn't really completely over Emily yet either - he was at the point of not wanting her back and agreeing that they were better off apart, knowing they weren't good for each other, but he still felt stung by everything that had happened, culminating in Emily going across the ocean without saying goodbye first, or one last conversation. Craig looked into Sören's sad puppydog eyes and leaned in to give him a kiss. The kiss deepened, and Craig's cock rose in his jeans.  
  
"If we're done with the pizza, do you... want to take a shower with me?" Sören asked. He bit his lower lip, something Craig found irresistible.  
  
"Yes," Craig said. "Let me put the leftovers away and take care of our dishes." He didn't want Geir or Karen to complain about a mess.  
  
Sören helped with the dishes, and when they were done, Sören gave Craig's ass a playful smack with the dishtowel. Craig wiggled his ass at Sören, and Sören stole another kiss, and another, pushing Craig up against the wall and kissing him roughly, hungrily, their hard cocks grinding together. Then Sören took Craig by the hand and marched him off to the bathroom.  
  
Before Sören joined him in the bathroom, Sören waited outside for Craig to do his business, cleaning out pre-bottoming. When Craig was done, he washed his hands, got undressed, and opened the bathroom door, pulling Sören inside.  
  
Emily had been the only person Craig had ever taken a shower with, and that rarely, less than the fingers of one hand. "I love showering with my partners," Sören said as he got his clothes off, while the hot water ran and steamed the bathroom. "It's very sensual."  
  
Sören showed him just how sensual it could be as they took turns lathering each other. They kissed, hands caressing, exploring, cock rubbing cock before they took each other's cocks into their hands and stroked gently. When Sören lathered the back of Craig he kissed Craig's neck and shoulder, hard cock rubbing in the crack of Craig's ass, and groaned as he felt Craig's hole twitching, wanting him. Craig gave Sören the same treatment, smiling as he discovered how sensitive Sören's back was, groaning at the sight of his cock rubbing against Sören's pert ass, his cock getting harder at the promise of when he'd been clean for a year, he could top Sören.  
  
They did one final rinse standing under the shower holding each other, kissing, cock teasing cock, and Sören reached down to take them both in his hand, his grip firm, stroking slowly at first, then harder and faster as Sören began kissing Craig's neck again. Craig shuddered, feeling like his knees were going to give out as the pleasure-tension mounted, his entire body electrified by Sören's touch. "Please," Craig panted, before their mouths met again in a needy, passionate kiss, Sören's grip tightening, stroking faster. When they pulled back, breathing harder, Craig pleaded again, aching for relief. "Please."  
  
Sören smirked, let go of their cocks, and turned the water off.  
  
They went back to the living room with towels around their waists, and together they folded out the bed from the couch and put on sheets, blankets, and pillows. Sören opened his satchel and took out a bottle of vanilla-flavored massage oil, and a tube of lubricant. He removed his towel and patted the bed. "Lie on your stomach, and I'll take care of you."  
  
Sören spent the next while rubbing and kneading Craig's shoulders, back, arms, ass, thighs, and calves, working his way down Craig's body then back up, very thorough. Sören's touch relaxed and aroused Craig at once, his body tingling, deliciously sensitized; Sören had such magic hands that Craig thought he was possibly in the wrong line of work as a neurosurgeon and should have become a massage therapist instead. Craig involuntarily flexed his fingers and toes, sighing as he melted into the bliss.  
  
Then, after Sören had massaged his way up, Craig felt Sören lean over him and blow softly on the back of his neck. Craig moaned, cock jolting, and Sören laughed before he rubbed Craig's ass and slapped it. Sören came closer and Craig moaned again, bucking against the mattress as he felt Sören's lips and tongue on the back of his neck. Sören began kissing down Craig's spine, fingers following the wake of his mouth. Craig shivered, moaning, panting, cock throbbing, hole twitching, going out of his mind with sensation. Sören's free hand rubbed Craig's lower back in slow, lazy circles, and then as Sören's mouth got lower, his hand did as well, rubbing Craig's ass... then his fingers played in the crack of Craig's ass. When Sören's finger traced around the rim of Craig's opening, Craig froze, and tensed up again.  
  
Sören noticed the whiplash from arousal to anxiety and rose up. "You OK?"  
  
"Yeah," Craig said, trying to fight it. "I'm OK."  
  
Sören resumed kissing Craig's lower back, rubbing Craig's ass. Sören's fingers started to rub the sensitive spot between Craig's balls and ass - so far so good - and as they strayed upwards Craig froze again.  
  
"Do you need me to stop?" Sören asked.  
  
"Yes," Craig said. His face was on fire - he didn't want to kill the mood, he had been looking forward to this. He had been _wanting_ Sören inside him. But his muscle memory remembered Justin forcing himself, the pain, the fear, the humiliation of Justin mocking him afterwards. Craig sat up, and Sören did too, and they just looked at each other for a moment - the compassion in Sören's warm brown eyes was too much. "I'm sorry," Craig said, not wanting to disappoint his lover - he himself was disappointed, angry with himself that he was reacting like this.  
  
"It's OK," Sören said softly. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do..." He touched Craig's cheek.  
  
And Craig fell apart then. "I _do_ want it," he seethed through his tears. "But I... I can't right now, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I know you were looking forward to this, I know you're horny too, I want to be a good boy..."  
  
"You _are_ a good boy." Sören pulled him close and started rocking him, petting him. "It's OK to cry. I told you, we don't have to do this. It's OK to say no."  
  
Craig wept harder. It hadn't been OK when he said no to Justin.  
  
Sören seemed to realize as Craig's sobbing got more intense. "What happened? Did somebody hurt you..."  
  
" _Yes._ "  
  
Sören took Craig's chin in his hand and tilted his face upwards, letting Craig see the fury in his eyes. "Have you ever told anybody?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You can tell me... if you want to. I won't force you to talk about it, I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. But if you _need_ to talk about it, if you think it will help..." Sören put Craig's head on his shoulder again and resumed rocking him. "You don't need to keep it inside, feeling ashamed of yourself. You can tell me. I was raped too, you know."  
  
"...What." Craig blinked, stunned.  
  
"It's why I left Iceland and came here. I used to party, and someone ended up slipping a roofie in my drink. I woke up in an alley used. Iceland is a small country and I started to feel like everywhere I went, whoever it was, was out there. It made me feel unsafe. I had to leave."  
  
"Jesus Christ, Sören, I'm so sorry."  
  
"So you're not alone." Sören looked into his eyes again. "Even if that hadn't happened to me, I wouldn't think any less of you, but I think men need to stop feeling like we're not 'real men' if we get assaulted, that it's something that only happens to women."  
  
Craig took a deep breath. Sören sharing his experience made Craig feel a little bolder, like maybe he _could_ talk about what happened without fear of judgment. "When Emily and I decided to take a break, I, ah... I acted on my bi urges. I found out I really, really like men, possibly even more than I like women. And that I prefer bottoming."  
  
Sören nodded. "I'm vers but I lean somewhat more towards bottoming myself, so I get that."  
  
"Yeah. It's a very different kind of pleasure when you're the one getting fucked and it's not just more intense physically, but... emotionally. I get more lost in it when I'm bottoming."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Craig went on, "There was this one guy who I was hooking up with more than the others. He was part of the crowd I ran with, we were using together and that's... really all our friendship was. But when he fucked me, he made me feel, well... wanted, after what happened with Emily. Until one night when he got too rough with me, he got outright violent and I got scared and tried to tell him no, and he didn't listen, and he didn't even use lube, he just shoved it in there, and he hurt me bad..."  
  
Sören exhaled. The murderous look on Sören's face would have aroused Craig if he weren't crying again, remembering, all the desire drained out of him as he lanced the festering soul-wound.  
  
"You didn't go to the police," Sören said, a statement of fact, not a question.  
  
"No, he threatened me. And I really didn't want to go to court and have to try to prove he did it, especially when I knew my sexual history would come up, and my drug use, that could be used to try to discredit me -"  
  
Sören pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jæja, I know what defense attorneys do." He looked like he was in pain. He started petting Craig again. "I'm not going to fault you if you don't go to the police - I understand not wanting to put yourself through more trauma with a trial - but I also know that if he's done this to you, he's probably done this to other people, or he will, and you probably know that too, and I don't want you to be eaten alive by guilt. So..." Sören swallowed hard, his own eyes filling with tears. His voice shook as he said, "Look, I told myself I would never, ever, ever fucking do this, but if you change your mind and you want to try to send this fucker to jail, I'll call Anthony and ask him for legal advice off the record, as a defense barrister he can tell me what your odds are and any do's and don'ts, stuff that might help or hurt your case. I'm pretty sure that he would actually help me with this if I asked him."  
  
Craig's mouth opened. The fact that Sören was willing to actually contact his ex, as much of a sore spot that Craig knew Anthony was, and ask for help, _for him_ , was not lost on him. That spoke volumes about the depth of Sören's caring, his willingness to go the extra kilometer for him.  
  
But, even if he had wanted to try to prosecute Justin Roberts, he couldn't. Justin had gotten into a fatal car accident in March; it was on the news. In fact, it had been the news of Justin's death - and feeling relief, feeling a certain sort of satisfaction, and then feeling guilt for having that reaction, like he was a horrible person for being pleased someone had died, even someone horrible - that had prompted Craig's second overdose. It hadn't quite been unintentional.  
  
"I appreciate you trying to help," Craig said, "but the guy who did it is dead now. No, I didn't kill him." _Though I'd like to give a trophy to the one who did._  
  
Now Sören's mouth opened - Craig could practically hear the unvoiced question of _did he overdose?_ and Craig thought about telling Sören about the news and the accident, but even though he was pretty sure Sören wasn't into association football he still didn't want to take the risk of saying his rapist was Justin Roberts. Since Justin's death, his fans and teammates had been acting like the golden boy of football was some sort of saint who had never done anything wrong even though Justin was under the influence and the driver at fault. Craig knew Sören would believe him but he still felt weird about revealing the identity, knowing there were plenty of people who wouldn't.  
  
Sören's arms tightened around him. Craig broke again, weeping - as much with relief that he'd finally told _somebody_ and there was no judgment, only acceptance, as with regret that this had even happened to him. "I'm sorry," Craig choked out. "I really wanted to be able to let you fuck me tonight, and I can't, and I'm sorry..."  
  
"Shhhhhh. I told you it's OK. You have nothing to apologize for, _elskan._ "  
  
Craig cried and cried, the tears seemingly endless, the grief endless. "He stole that from me. I want to and I can't and I feel like damaged goods..."  
  
Sören gave him a stern look. "You're not damaged goods. You're not dirty, you're not weak, you're not a disappointment to me. I don't mind just holding you tonight, if you need that."  
  
"You... you sure?" Craig sniffled. "You reserved time with me and I feel like I'm being a downer..."  
  
"Someone I care about is hurting and I want to be here for you, OK? You deserve to have support when you need it." Sören kissed his brow. He lay them down and pulled the covers up around them, like a cocoon, safe and warm. "Let me be here for you. Let me hold you. Let me comfort you. OK?"  
  
Craig nodded and started to cry again. Sören continued to rock and pet him, making little soothing noises. "Let it out," Sören husked. "Cry it out. Don't keep it inside."  
  
Craig cried for a long time, until he was all cried out. Then he just lay there, exhausted. Sören still kept holding him, petting him. "I'm here," Sören whispered. "I'm right here." Craig clung, listening to Sören's heartbeat, feeling Sören's breath, taking some comfort in the strong, nurturing presence. He was comforted enough that the exhaustion gave way to much-needed sleep.  
  
  
_  
  
  
  
He idolizes his uncle Sören, just like his father does, but unlike his father who is a scholar, when he is of age he wants to work in the forge alongside his uncle, he wants to be Sören's apprentice. It isn't that he feels a particular calling to the work of a smith, unlike his cousin - who knows it and resents him being there - but he wants to be around Sören as much as possible.  
  
He gets into debt, and takes a jewel from his uncle's collection, thinking he'll replace it when he can. Of course he gets caught, and he knows Sören has a fearsome temper, and he expects to be punished severely. But Sören is understanding, and lets him off fairly easy all things considered. He now works as Sören's manservant, a sort of personal assistant.  
  
When they are alone one day, Sören catches him looking with worshipful eyes and says, "If I didn't know better, I would say you wanted to get in trouble because you wanted to serve me like this."  
  
That isn't entirely true - Craig made a mistake, he was foolish - but he still can't deny that he enjoys this punishment.  
  
"I bet you want to serve me another way."  
  
" _Please_ ," Craig gasps, wanting this more than anything, almost coming the moment he takes Sören's cock in his mouth. He wants to serve, give, be taken, used, fucked.  
  
"That's my good boy." Sören touches his face. Craig hasn't been a boy in years, but he still thrills to the words, moaning around the cock he's sucking.  
  
  
_  
  
  
In the middle of the night, Craig woke from his strange dream. Sören was still holding him, and had fallen asleep at some point; Craig studied Sören's sleeping face, finding him beautiful.  
  
He didn't know what to make of the dream - he felt unsettled, even though it was just a dream, his dreams usually weren't as vivid and intense as this. But the unsettled feeling melted back into comfort as he snuggled closer and Sören stirred a little, holding him tighter, kissing the top of his head and mumbling "good boy" before Sören slipped back into sleep.  
  
Being held and given a safe space to talk about what happened and cry it out didn't undo what was done, nothing ever would, but being soothed, not being rejected or mocked, was a balm. Laying naked in Sören's arms, just _being_ , resting in the calm after the storm, was as intimate as sex, if not moreso - the most intimate and vulnerable Craig had ever been with anyone, even Emily. He felt trust, after having it deeply and cruelly betrayed by Justin earlier that year, and it felt good to have that with someone.  
  
It felt dangerously close to love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dream Craig has (of Fëanor and Orodreth) is AU canon divergence, obviously.


	7. Rope Burn

After Craig's catharsis, Sören felt even more of a protective urge towards him. Over the next week Sören texted him at least a few times a day, and on the two weekdays where Sören's break didn't align with Craig's clinic schedule, Sören still made it a point to stop over at Karen and Geir's just to say hi to Craig before going home from work.  
  
A week after Craig confiding in him about the rape, and Sören holding him all night, it happened that Sören's break only partly aligned with Craig's schedule - his group was getting out when Sören had just twenty minutes left. They had earlier in the week discussed it over text, after Sören sent Craig an attachment of his schedule.  
  
 _You can still stop by,_ Sören had texted. _Twenty minutes is twenty minutes._  
  
 _You sure?_  
  
 _Yes. I want to see you._ Sören sent a heart emoji.  
  
Sören worried sometimes about coming on too strong - he knew the nature of the dom/sub relationship was inherently intense, but he still had concerns he'd come off as too demanding or possessive, especially when Sören knew it was only a few months after Craig's breakup with Emily, he didn't want Craig to feel overwhelmed, like things were getting too serious too fast. But Craig had seemed delighted to take whatever time he could get, and the morning of the just-twenty-minutes break, Craig sent Sören a text with _Can't wait to see you_ and heart emojis. Sören thought of that, smiling as he sat down in the cafe with his lunch, waiting.  
  
A few bites into his sandwich he froze when he saw an unexpected sight - there was Ben, Karen's brother and Craig's former best friend, getting in the queue. He waved at Sören, and Sören waved back. This was the first time Ben had shown up at the National, and Sören wondered what was going on.  
  
When Ben got his coffee he pulled up a chair at Sören's table. "Hey," Ben said.  
  
"Hi," Sören said through a mouthful of sandwich, then remembered his manners and finished chewing and swallowing before he spoke again. "What brings you here?" He narrowed his eyes, feeling concern. "You're not here for tests or something, are you?" While Ben seemed to be in good health, Geir had been referred to the National for a battery of tests in December and most of Sören's patients did in fact look outwardly healthy, tumors were insidious.  
  
"No," Ben said with a reassuring smile. "Karen gave me your schedule." His smile faded to a stern look. "I need to talk to you about something."  
  
Sören knew immediately this was going to be about Craig, and his heart sank. He hoped whatever Ben had to say, could be over and done before Craig showed up for his twenty minutes. "All right," Sören said, stomach tying in knots. He pushed what was left of his sandwich aside. "What's going on?"  
  
"I hear you and Craig are... a thing now."  
  
Sören hadn't come out and announced it to Ben - he preferred to avoid the subject of Craig entirely where Ben was concerned - but of course Karen probably mentioned it to her brother at least in passing. _Thanks, Karen,_ Sören thought to himself, trying not to be too annoyed with his girlfriend, after all, it wasn't like he was ashamed of his arrangement with Craig or felt like he had anything to hide.  
  
"Jæja," Sören said, looking Ben in the eye. "We're involved."  
  
"Well, I don't like it."  
  
Sören snorted. "I didn't think I was your type, Ben, and even if I was, that would probably be weird for your sister -"  
  
"No, smartarse, that isn't it," Ben said, giving him a look. Ben leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Look, this isn't even about the fact that he and I aren't friends anymore. Even if he and I were still friends, I'd be telling you the same thing I'm about to tell you."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"I don't think it's a good idea."  
  
"And you're a psychologist now?" Sören raised an eyebrow and sipped his coffee.  
  
"No, but I don't need to be a professional to tell you this is a bad idea for both of you. He's a mess and he should be encouraged to stand on his own, and get his shit together on his own, rather than leaning on you, using you as a crutch. And you already spend sixty to seventy hours a week playing big damn hero trying to save people's lives, it's starting to look like you've got a messiah complex."  
  
Sören bristled at that and he thought about telling Ben to fuck off and go away, but he knew Ben was trying to be a friend - one thing he and Ben both had in common, and why they hit it off right away, was a tendency to be honest to the point of being blunt, opinionated. Neither he nor Ben liked the social games people played, bullshitting each other with false flattery. At the same time, Sören felt like Ben was being a little too hard on him, and Craig, and the situation in general, and he was annoyed. Sören sat there and drank his coffee, considering his response, trying to think and choose his words carefully before he opened his mouth and Ben got a taste of his temper. But as the minutes wore on and Ben continued to give him that accusatory look, Sören's annoyance grew rather than calming down, and Sören finally put his coffee down, squared his shoulders, and narrowed his eyes.  
  
"God forbid Craig has a friend, after you turned your back on him, and it seems Karen and Geir pity him more than anything else, which feels more like a charity case than actual friendship. As far as me playing messiah, I pushed him towards mental health services precisely so he's not using me as a substitute for professional help. Considering he's not my only partner, and any issues with him has the potential to impact and destabilize my other relationships, I'm pretty fucking mindful of this not turning into some co-dependent thing."  
  
"I hope so," Ben said. "I really hope so, for both your sakes, but right now I'm not too optimistic."  
  
"No, it's pretty clear that Craig thinks everybody he knows thinks he's a fuckup," Sören said, resisting the urge to crush his coffee cup in his hand.  
  
"And did you ever think about _why_ that is?" Ben lifted a hand, then it rested again on his arm. "You sit here and judge me for turning my back on him, but you weren't there for the first overdose. You weren't there for the way his personality changed, all the lies he told, all the trouble he got into, the way we had to put him back together again. And then it looked like he'd actually gotten better, that things would be OK, and it turns out they never bloody were, he just got better at hiding his shit. That first overdose _hurt_ , and after all the apologies for hurting us, scaring us, all the promises he made that he wouldn't do it again, after all the hope we had that he was fine, _and then he wasn't_... that fucked us all up. Me especially, because he was my best friend. I loved him like a brother. That second overdose was a deep, deep betrayal of trust. You can't possibly understand how _much_ that kind of breach of trust fucking hurts."  
  
"Try me," Sören gritted out, thinking of how he'd felt safe with Anthony after a lifetime of pain, and in the course of a single afternoon his entire life went up in flames.  
  
"Right," Ben said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I didn't realize -"  
  
"No shit," Sören said, feeling even more annoyed with him.  
  
There was another long, awkward silence. Ben shifted in his seat again and started looking around the cafe, and quickly finished his coffee. Sören wondered if Ben was just going to leave without saying anything more, but then Ben found his words again. "So since you've had your trust broken yourself, you must have at least a little sympathy for why I'm like this, I hope."  
  
Sören swallowed hard. He really didn't want to think about Anthony - _again_ \- right now, or the way Anthony had asked to get back together in February, or the way he'd run into Anthony's mother and _she'd_ pleaded for them to at least talk. "This situation," Sören said coldly, "is not like that situation."  
  
"Isn't it?"  
  
" _Jæja._ " Sören was losing his patience more and more. "I'm not going to tell you that you were wrong for distancing yourself from Craig, even if I gave that impression a minute ago. I don't like it, I wish you guys could work things out, but I also understand it's not that easy considering your history with him and being worried that if you trust him a second time, he'll burn that trust a third time. If I were in your exact same position, I can't say that I wouldn't do the same thing for my mental health." _After all, I haven't called Anthony._ "But, you and I have two different histories with Craig, and we're two different people. I think that it's kind of unfair to expect that just because _you_ can't be around him anymore, I have to follow suit."  
  
"That's not what I was -"  
  
"No, that's pretty much what you were saying. I'll respect your need for space if bringing him as a plus-one or... well... plus-whatever to get-togethers is going to make things weird for you, but otherwise, I feel like you're putting me in the middle and asking me to choose between my friendship with you and my relationship with him, maybe not in those exact words, but it's coming off that way."  
  
Ben's mouth opened, and then it closed. Ben exhaled sharply, and then Ben said, "I'm sorry if you feel that way. I'm not asking you to choose -"  
  
If there was one thing Sören hated, it was the _I'm sorry you feel that way_ non-apology. Sören was also getting tired of Ben trying to act like he hadn't come in here asking him to not be involved with Craig. _The wrong sibling became a lawyer._ "No, you're not asking, because you're going to shut up now while I'm talking to you," Sören said, his tone firm. He could hear his accent thickening, and his thoughts were starting to come to him in Icelandic rather than English, which was a sign his temper had reached boiling point and was about to blow. "I am not going to stop seeing Craig, whether you like it or not. Again, I won't rub it in your face, I won't put you in a situation where you have to associate with him if you don't want that. But that's... that's all. I've heard your concerns, and I get where you're coming from about the second overdose. But he needs _someone_ to give him a chance, and I'm going to do just that."  
  
"Yeah, see, that's the thing I'm afraid of -"  
  
"Did I say you could talk yet?"  
  
They glared at each other across the table, and then Sören gave the "go ahead" gesture.  
  
"'He needs someone to give him a chance,'" Ben said, making air quotes. "There you go again, trying to _help._ Something something road, something something good intentions -"  
  
There was a throat clear. Sören jumped in his seat, and glanced up at Craig standing there, with a look on his face like a deer trapped in headlights.  
  
"Oh. Shit," Ben said, and got up and left without another word.  
  
Craig continued to stand there, and now the deer-trapped-in-headlights look changed to one of obvious pain, grimacing, eyes too bright with tears.  
  
Sören's heart broke for him, knowing what this must have sounded like, what it must have looked like. _Oh god. Oh fuck._  
  
"Craig," Sören said, his voice husky with emotion. Sören rose from the table and started to go to him. "How much did you hear?"  
  
"Enough," Craig choked out, turning away.  
  
"Craig." Sören was closer now, almost close enough to hug. "Craig, listen..." He reached out to give Craig a hug, and Craig moved away. With a stricken look on his face, tears spilling down his cheeks, Craig rushed out of the cafe.  
  
A moment later, Sören took a deep breath and followed him out, leaving his unfinished coffee and sandwich behind.  
  
  
_  
  
  
It was pouring rain outside; Craig was wearing a navy blue hooded sweatshirt and jeans. He was carrying an umbrella but hadn't opened it, as if he wanted to get rained on. Craig was running, as if he were having a panic attack and wanted to get away from anyone who might see.  
  
Asthma be damned, Sören _ran_ to catch up with him. His hair came out of its loose bun and tumbled down to his shoulders, and by the time Sören made it over to Craig, he was winded and the weight of his wet curls felt like a lead shroud, making the breathing worse. He got in front of Craig, stopping him in his tracks, and then he panted, "Hold up," raising a hand as his other hand reached for his inhaler.  
  
"You're going to be late for getting back to work," Craig said.  
  
Sören shrugged as he puffed on his inhaler. "They won't yell too much if it's a few minutes." When the inhaler kicked in, Sören put his hands on Craig's shoulders. Craig looked away, shaking with silent tears.  
  
"Craig. Listen. I don't know what you mean by 'enough' with how much you saw -"  
  
"He needs _someone_ to give him a chance," Craig quoted back, and then he glared, jaw trembling as the tears spilled down his cheeks. "I don't need your fucking pity!"  
  
"I told you going into this that it isn't pity for me. I genuinely like you. I genuinely care about you." Sören's voice lowered, husking again. "I genuinely want you. You turn me on."  
  
"You don't need to flatter me -"  
  
"Goddammit, Craig, this isn't flattery. You know how pressed I am for time, I wouldn't waste my time on you if I wasn't sincere." Sören took Craig's chin in his hand. "When I said 'he needs someone to give him a chance', what I meant by that is _you deserve friends_. Even if it's not me, just... someone. I know you and Ben fell out, and I know Karen and Geir feel more like caretakers than actual friends right now. But my statement wasn't that I'm doing this because 'somebody has to'. I felt like Ben was trying to make a case for you being too fucked up to be friends with -"  
  
"Which is the other thing. He was trying to poison your mind against me -"  
  
"He was expressing concern."  
  
"-and I feel like you're going to take what he said to heart and decide you're better off not giving me a chance -"  
  
"Craig, _no._ " Sören took a deep breath. He found himself pulling Craig close, holding him tight. At first Craig was stiff, resistant, but then he relaxed and let himself be held. Craig continued to cry, and Sören kissed the top of Craig's head, rubbed his nose in the wet waves of his hair, enjoying Craig's natural scent mixed with rain. "Look. First of all, nobody tells me to do anything... outside of the bedroom." Sören smirked. Craig's lips quirked in an almost-smile. Sören patted him and went on, "Ben _did_ express concerns about our arrangement. But it doesn't matter. What happened with you and him has no bearing on what's going on with you and I. It's two different situations. And I make my own decisions, I make my own judgments. OK? I'm not with you out of pity. Like I said, when I said 'he needs someone to give him a chance', I was simply stating that you need friends, and just because he feels burned by what happened, doesn't mean he gets to decide nobody can be your friend. You're not a charity case, and I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Craig sighed. "I want to believe you."  
  
"Well, that's a start."  
  
They stood there for a moment in the rain, just hugging. Craig continued to cry - less intense than before - and Sören rocked and pet him, and racked his brain for what excuse he'd give for his lateness when he went back inside the hospital.  
  
"Craig, I gotta go back to work, but..." Sören kissed his brow. "I get off at six. Instead of going straight home, I'm going to tell Nick I'm making a detour to come see you, because you're not in a good way. He'll understand -"  
  
"Are you _sure_. I don't want to cause problems by being, you know, too needy."  
  
Now it was Sören's turn to sigh. He tousled Craig's curls. "Nick will get it. OK? I'll come see you for a couple hours before I go home."  
  
"I won't say no. I just... don't want to be this basket case you're always having to take care of."  
  
"You're my boy," Sören said. "You're my pet. It's OK to let me take care of you when you need taking care of."  
  
With that, he stole a kiss. What was meant to be a sweet, gentle kiss unleashed the passion between them, lips parting, tongues playing, sending heat through Sören. This was the worst possible time for him to get hard, and Sören swore under his breath as they pulled away. But now Craig's tears were replaced by a saucy little smirk - Craig seemed to revel in being a tease - and Sören couldn't resist swatting his ass. Sören also couldn't help smiling, relieved that Craig's mood had lifted. He hoped Craig wasn't going to rehash the panic of Ben's "little talk" and get tempted to use.  
  
"I'll see you after six," Sören said.  
  
The rest of his shift was going to be very long.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören only had consults for the rest of the day, no surgeries, which was just as well because an hour after he returned to work, he got a text. He waited until the patient he was seeing went off for an MRI, and then he took out his phone and saw the text was from Craig.  
  
 _I'm having urges._  
  
Sören took a few deep, slow breaths. He resisted the impulse to tell Ed he needed to go home - it was already bad enough he'd gotten back late. He also didn't want to get in the habit of dropping everything every single time Craig had urges - while he disagreed with Ben that his relationship with Craig was inherently co-dependent, he nonetheless wanted to keep it from getting that way.  
  
 _Take it one hour at a time,_ Sören texted back. _Find something to distract yourself for an hour. If you're still feeling the urges, distract yourself for another hour. And another. OK?_  
  
 _I'll try._  
  
As Sören's shift wore on, his worry about Craig was in the back of his mind - one of his worst new fears was that Craig would start using again. He realized that even though he'd assured Craig that Ben's speech wasn't going to sway him, it had raised doubts as to whether or not Craig would relapse. Sören didn't like that, and he knew Craig didn't need him constantly worrying - and expecting - that there would be a third fuckup. Craig needed someone to believe in him.  
  
So Sören made himself stay at work until it was over, and not obsessively check in. He made himself hope for the best, and not expect the worst, that when he arrived at Karen and Geir's flat, Craig would have refrained from using.  
  
Sure enough, when Sören showed up, Craig was on the couch playing video games. Craig put the controller down as Sören walked in, but stayed on the couch. Sören washed his hands, then went over to Craig and gave him a fierce, tight hug.  
  
"Were you a good boy?" Sören asked.  
  
Craig nodded. "I did what you said. The urges... are mostly gone now."  
  
Sören noticed the word "mostly", rather than "gone" with no modifier, but he was glad Craig was being honest and not pretending to be instantly out of that bad headspace; Sören knew from his own experience with emotional meltdowns that it sometimes took several hours, if not several days, to be OK again. Sören tousled Craig's hair and sat next to him.  
  
"I'm sorry today was so awful," Sören said.  
  
"It got worse."  
  
"Oh god." Sören braced himself. "You... you didn't call Ben or go over to see him and yell at him, did you?"  
  
"No." Craig gave a nervous little laugh. "It would have been better if I did. No, I figured out it was Karen who told him about us and gave Ben your schedule and I ended up getting into it with _her_ before she went to school tonight."  
  
"Oh fuck." Sören swallowed hard, feeling the pit of his stomach rise. Not only did he hope it wasn't going to be awkward the next time he saw Karen - worrying that Karen shared her brother's reservations and didn't approve of the relationship and had just held her peace till now - but this was where Craig was staying, and tensions might push him to move out before he was ready. "How bad was it? Are..."  
  
"We calmed down and had a talk, and she gave me a hug, so I guess things are OK now, but..." Craig's eyes welled with tears again. "I feel like a twat. And I'm still pissed off that she thought it was OK for Ben to go have a talk with you and 'express his concerns'..." Craig's fingers made sarcastic air quotes before he fell apart, sobbing on Sören's shoulder. "Jesus Christ, no wonder he has concerns," Craig choked out through his tears. "I'm a fucking mess. Even when I'm sober, I fuck things up -"  
  
"No." Sören took Craig's chin in his hand and looked in his eyes, stern and firm. "Every relationship, every friendship, has its ups and downs. When people are living together, sometimes frustrations arise, and there are rough patches in communications. It's better you guys aired things rather than letting it build up and explode. If she's on Ben's side I'm not happy with that either, but maybe it wasn't so much that as she knows better than to try to stand in her brother's way if he has a mind to do something. I mean, did she tell you that she agreed with him, or did you just assume?"  
  
"She didn't say she agreed with him, only that she felt it was fair for you to hear both sides."  
  
"Fucking barristers," Sören muttered under his breath; Karen might not have been a lawyer anymore but it was still deeply ingrained. Before he could get annoyed with his memories of Anthony wanting to be "fair to both sides" when Sören had a problem with his friends, Sören kissed Craig's brow and started to rub his shoulders. "OK. Well... I don't think you fucked anything up, and I believe I had a talk with you about thinking of yourself as a fuckup. I know it's an old habit and it's hard to break immediately, but even if you make a mistake, it's different from being a fuckup. It's different from being a failure. You having a hard time over something legitimately upsetting is different from being a mess."  
  
Craig broke down, not able to make words.  
  
Sören rocked him, and Craig cried into his shoulder. "I'm sorry," Craig sobbed. "I feel like all I ever do is cry -"  
  
"No, but you need to cry, and I'm here. I understand. Just let it out." Sören rubbed his back.  
  
"I'm sorry -"  
  
"You have nothing to be sorry for."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"You did nothing wrong. Stop apologizing."  
  
"Sorry -"  
  
Sören picked Craig's head up, gave him a look, then booped Craig's nose.  
  
Sören had come over with the intent to give Craig an orgasm - to take the edge off, and help reinforce that Craig was wanted, Sören wasn't going anywhere - in the window before he knew Karen was set to return from school, and Geir from orchestral practice. But Sören needed Craig to calm down a little first, for both their sakes. Craig needed another distraction; Sören thought for a moment. "Let's go for a little walk and get some air," Sören said. He and Nicholas had a routine of going on a walk most evenings, and while Sören still struggled with anxiety he noticed that their nightly routine of a walk and tai chi helped put him on a more even keel.  
  
"It's still raining." Craig made a face.  
  
"It's drizzling, it's not as bad as it was earlier. I mean, if you don't want to, I won't force you, but I don't know, I always find walking in the rain kind of romantic."  
  
Craig brightened a little bit, and Sören led him outside. Hand in hand, they strolled through the neighborhood as it sprinkled, the golden streetlights misting. The walk was quiet, and the peace of the evening drizzle and fog helped Craig relax rather noticeably... enough that when they got back inside, Craig started kissing him on the way upstairs. Sören laughed as Craig let them in. "My, someone's in better spirits." Sören kissed the tip of Craig's nose.  
  
Craig's response to that was to kick off his shoes and peel off both his hoodie and the T-shirt underneath, exposing his bare chest.  
  
"Mmmmm." Sören admired him, and began to undress as well. "That's a good boy."  
  
Sören had a thought - something he could do to strongly reinforce the sentiment that he wasn't going anywhere... nor was he going to let Craig run away from him in self-loathing. "Craig, where's your winter coat?"  
  
"Uh... in the hall closet."  
  
"Is your scarf in there too?"  
  
"Yeah?" Craig gave him a bemused look as he continued undressing.  
  
Sören snickered as he walked off to the hall closet - he wanted to make sure Craig's coat was in there and not in another closet or perhaps in the storage unit with things from Craig's old flat in Canary Wharf. Sören found a white and blue striped cashmere scarf that definitely didn't look like something Karen or Geir would wear, and twirled it around as he moseyed back to where Craig was turning the couch out into the bed. Craig gave him another look of confusion as Sören came closer with the scarf.  
  
"Have you ever been tied up?" Sören asked.  
  
"Er, no." Craig's eyes widened. "You..."  
  
"Like I keep saying, we don't have to do anything you don't want to do, but..." Sören bit his lower lip. "I was thinking about tying your wrists. An act of trust on your part, and ownership on mine. I think you need it, after today."  
  
Craig didn't hesitate. "All right." He looked eager now, so much so that Sören tried not to laugh; it was adorable.  
  
"One thing, though. I know we usually have a rule that if you don't like something, you say no, but to help reinforce the difference between 'don't, stop' and 'don't stop' I need to implement a BDSM cliche called the safeword. Something you use in the place of 'no' if you need me to stop doing what I'm doing."  
  
"OK, what's the safeword?"  
  
Sören smirked. "Cumberbatch."  
  
Craig lost it, tearing up - this time not out of sadness - and wheezing. When he calmed down, he nodded. "OK, Cumberbatch it is."  
  
Sören grinned. "Now, lie on your back. Put your hands behind your head but just above your head, hands together." Craig's couch-bed didn't have a headboard, which would have made things a lot easier, but the task wasn't impossible.  
  
Craig maneuvered the pillows and did what Sören asked, looking at him with curiosity and expectation as Sören used the scarf to tie Craig's wrists together. When the knots were secure, Sören had Craig test them to make sure they were neither too tight nor too loose. Once Sören was satisfied, he sat on the edge of the bed for a minute and they just looked at each other, and Sören reached out to stroke Craig's face, smiling tenderly. "You're a good boy," Sören whispered. "And now I'm going to take care of my good boy."  
  
Sören climbed over him and for the next while they just kissed and kissed and kissed. Sören stroked Craig's face as his hard cock rubbed against Craig's thigh, then Sören's hand moved to caress Craig's chest and stomach slowly, round and round, up and down, back and forth, as he moved in closer, their hard cocks rubbing together. Craig moaned, and Sören gave a little growl before he sucked on Craig's lower lip. Then Sören began kissing and licking Craig's neck as his hand strayed from Craig's stomach to Craig's cock, stroking gently. Craig moaned again, louder, panting, trying to buck into Craig's hand. Sören laughed softly as he nibbled at the hollow of Craig's neck and shoulder, before kissing it. "Someone likes this," Sören purred. His eyes met Craig's. "Don't you?"  
  
"Yes," Craig breathed. "Oh god, yes..."  
  
"Yes what?"  
  
"Yes Sir."  
  
Sören smiled. "That's right." His grip tightened on Craig's cock. "Remember who's in charge here." Sören claimed Craig's mouth again, kissing him deeply, then he licked down Craig's throat. "Remember who you belong to."  
  
"Oh, _fuck_..."  
  
"My boy." Sören kissed and licked down to Craig's heart, stroking Craig's cock just a little harder and faster. "My good, beautiful boy. My sweet pet." Their eyes met again and Sören said, "Ben can't keep me away from taking care of you. Enjoying you. Claiming what's mine." He leaned in and seized a nipple between his lips, suckling hard. Craig cried out and bucked again, then whimpered as Sören's tongue lashed the hard nub. Sören sucked at it again, then his tongue brushed more lightly and delicately, then harder, fucking it with his tongue, before suckling it some more, tugging on the nipple with his lips. Craig panted, gasped, writhing as much as he could with his hands bound. Sören gave him a wicked grin before turning to the other nipple and giving it the same treatment, sucking fiercely, tongue rubbing fast then slow then faster, harder, lips pulling on the nipple as he sucked harder than before.  
  
"God. _Sören._ God..." Craig shuddered. "You're fucking evil." His cock jolted in Sören's hand, dripping precum. " _Fuck_..."  
  
Sören laughed, delighted. " _Takk._ " He went back to the first nipple, licking around and around it, then lapping it before suckling again. Doing the same to the other nipple. Back and forth, teasing Craig's nipples as he continued to stroke Craig's cock gently but firmly. When Craig was howling, almost sobbing, begging "please, _please_ ," but not quite able to request what he wanted, Sören let up, and kissed Craig's stomach.  
  
Sören's own cock was throbbing now, leaking precum, aching for release, but Sören was on a mission. He continued kissing and licking Craig's stomach, thrilling to the way Craig moaned and cried out, that wild, fevered look in his blue eyes. Sören wanted to absolutely wreck him, to give him an orgasm so good he had no doubt he was wanted, there was no pity here; he needed to keep building the tension. "So sexy," Sören whispered before he nibbled near Craig's navel. "Such a lovely boy."  
  
"Sören." Craig whined, and let out a shuddery gasp. "Oh god, Sören, please..."  
  
"Please what?"  
  
"Please, Sir..."  
  
"What do you want? What are you asking for?"  
  
"I need to come," Craig pleaded. "God, make me come, please..."  
  
Sören chuckled. "Soon, pet, I promise." Sören kissed and nibbled his way towards Craig's hip, and then down and across Craig's thigh. He kissed and licked back up to Craig's stomach, and then nuzzled Craig's sandy bush, breathing in the musky scent of his arousal. Craig howled, and Sören's cock jolted, gushing more precum down the shaft, _wanting_.  
  
Sören decided it was time to up the ante. His eyes locked with Craig's as his lips wrapped around Craig's hard cock, taking it down inch by inch. Sören sucked it down almost to the hilt, giving Craig a bit of a show, rewarded by Craig's groan. Then Sören let it slip out and took in the head and the first couple of inches, his hand rubbing up and down the rest of the shaft as he sucked, bobbing up and down, the cock gliding in and out of his mouth. Sören's cock throbbed more urgently, balls tightening, very worked up by having a cock in his mouth, listening to and watching Craig's reactions. Sören teased him some more by taking the cock out of his mouth to lick it, tongue swirling around and around the head, lashing the frenulum, then licking up and down the shaft, first with long, deliberate strokes, then lapping, bathing it with shorter, faster strokes. Craig groaned and writhed, limited by the bonds on his wrists, and made a plaintive little howl that went right to Sören's cock.  
  
Sören kept licking, teasing him, then drew the head of Craig's cock into his mouth, kissing it as his hand rubbed the shaft harder, faster. A few minutes later Sören licked at the head again, rubbed his tongue at the frenulum, made a show of slapping the head of Craig's cock against his tongue to collect the flowing precum. Craig groaned and then gave a hoarse cry as Sören resumed sucking, hand stroking the shaft. Craig gave a deeper groan when Sören's hand moved lower to cup and rub the balls and Sören took more of the cock in his mouth, rubbing his tongue as much as he could with his mouth full.  
  
When Sören needed air, he took the cock out of his mouth again but this time instead of licking the cock he moved his head lower, to lick and suck Craig's balls. Craig went crazy at that, high-pitched whimpers and deep groans, panting; Sören felt Craig's thighs quivering and he smiled. His hand gripped Craig's cock, stroking gently as he continued licking and sucking the balls. Feeling bolder, he parted Craig's thighs wider and his tongue brushed the sensitive place between balls and ass. Craig cried out and, wanting to make sure it was still OK, Sören asked, "Good?"  
  
" _Yes._ Fuck, Sören..." Craig made a seething noise through his clenched teeth.  
  
With an "mmmmm", Sören continued licking Craig there, kissing it. The hand that wasn't on Craig's cock played with Craig's balls, and when Sören started kissing Craig's balls again his fingers brushed that place. Craig whimpered and shouted "Yes, oh god, that's fucking good..."  
  
Sören didn't want to trigger Craig but he wanted to try something. "Can I eat you out? Your ass, I mean."  
  
There was the briefest hesitation and then Craig gave a nod and looked Sören in the eye. "Go for it."  
  
Craig smelled clean, if a bit musky with arousal. Sören's tongue licked around the opening in slow circles, and Craig's breath hitched. After a few rounds Sören dove in and began to rub his tongue slowly, lovingly.  
  
"Oh, _fuck!_ " Craig let out another shuddery gasp and then a growling, feral noise. "Fuck, oh _god_..."  
  
"Mmmmmhmmmm." Sören continued licking oh-so-slowly, having to reach down and touch himself at the way Craig was panting, whimpering. When Sören sped up, tongue lashing faster, Craig was almost sobbing, making animal noises. Sören had a pretty good idea that Craig liked what he was doing but he wanted to make sure anyway. He paused, pulled his head back, and asked, "Do you like that, pet?"  
  
"God, _yes_. Fuck _yes_ , it feels incredible..." Craig sighed. He looked Sören in the eye. "No one's ever done this before."  
  
" _Really._ " Sören blinked with disbelief. He believed Craig - it didn't seem the sort of thing Craig would lie about - but it made him wonder what Craig's experiences with men had been like, if all his male lovers had been selfish and only concerned with their pleasure, not his. That thought gave Sören a little bristle of anger... and a surge of protective possessiveness. "Well... I take care of my boy." His tongue started to circle the rim of Craig's opening again, not dipping back inside just yet.  
  
"Fuck yeah, you do." Craig shivered. "Your tongue is so fucking good..."  
  
"I want to be good to my boy." Sören smiled, and his finger traced circles around the rim before his tongue did again. "Mine. This is mine now." He plunged his tongue back inside.  
  
Craig howled as Sören's tongue rubbed away, viciously devouring him. Then Sören slowed down, teasing. As Sören's tongue brushed slowly, he played with Craig's cock, until he felt Craig tensing up, heard Craig make urgent noises, and finally Craig called out, "Sören, I need to come. Please, Sir, make me come, please, I need it so bad..."  
  
Sören relented. He lapped the precum flowing down Craig's shaft and made another show of collecting precum with his tongue, making streamers, before he took the head back into his mouth and rubbed his tongue as he sucked, his hand rubbing up and down the shaft hard and fast. Soon Craig was gasping, and moaning "ohgod. Ohgod. Ohgod Sören I'm so close... so fucking close..."  
  
"Mmmmhmmm." Sören met his eyes. Sören's free hand reached to massage the place between Craig's balls and ass as he continued to suck at the head and use his other hand to stroke Craig's cock. Craig made high-pitched noises, then panted, and Sören paused sucking to ask, "Can I finger you?"  
  
Craig nodded vehemently.  
  
The fingers playing with the sensitive place between Craig's balls and ass moved lower, and Sören pushed a finger into Craig, finding the nub of his prostate right away and rubbing it as he resumed sucking, stroking. Craig gasped for breath, eyes wide, and then a deep, primal grunt rose into a keening whine. "Sören, I'm gonna come -"  
  
"Mmmmmmmmm. _Mmmmmmmmmmm_."  
  
Craig threw his head back and cried out " _Sören!_ " and then let out a wordless cry as his seed flooded Sören's mouth. Sören drank it down, swallowing, greedy for it, enjoying the taste of him, almost undone at the way Craig moaned, the taste of his cum, the look of ecstasy on Craig's face. The look of joy, of triumph. Sören felt joy too, proud of him for his trust, his surrender.  
  
Sören came up to kiss him, letting Craig taste himself, and then he untied Craig's wrists. Craig flexed his wrists and hands, wincing a little, but then he smiled and laughed - the way his face lit up went right to Sören's heart.  
  
"That was so fucking good," Craig said. He gave Sören a kiss, and then he touched Sören's face, his eyes soft. "You didn't come yet."  
  
"Not yet." Sören needed to, badly.  
  
Sören thought about letting Craig suck him off, but he felt like it would be better to mark him this time, to reinforce that sense of ownership and belonging yet further. Craig watched intently as Sören stroked himself - he was so turned on by what he did to Craig, and the way Craig loved it, that it didn't take long to get _right there_ , and when Sören gasped, "I'm gonna shoot," Craig purred, "Give it to me, milord."  
  
Something about the way Craig said that drove Sören crazy and he came hard, moaning, spurting all over Craig's face and chest. Craig groaned, licking his lips; Sören sighed as he watched Craig scoop the cum from his chest and taste it from his fingers. Then Craig lay back, looking like he was in bliss.  
  
For a little while Sören just held him and pet him. "My good boy," Sören whispered, needing to keep reassuring him, especially after the magnitude of what they'd just done. "My good boy. My good, sweet boy."  
  
Finally he kissed Craig's brow, and looked at the time. "I should head back," Sören said. "I did tell Nick a couple of hours and it's... been a couple of hours. And I don't want Karen or Geir to get in and see this."  
  
"It's OK," Craig said, nodding. "I'll probably take a nap."  
  
They put their clothes back on, and then once they were fully dressed, Sören hugged him. "You OK?" Sören asked. Craig still looked like he was enjoying the afterglow of a very good orgasm, but Sören knew he'd had a rough day and what they'd just done was very intense.  
  
"I'm OK," Craig said. He smiled. "You take good care of me, you know. You're, ah... a good dom."  
  
Sören smiled back. "I learned from the best." He felt a wistful ache of nostalgia, missing Anthony.


	8. Tonight's the Night

On the Friday of Craig's fourth week of treatment at the mental health clinic, this time Sören stopped there when Craig was getting out of his daily program, rather than Craig meeting Sören at the National for his break. Craig was chatting with a couple of people from his group and when he saw Sören strolling up, pausing to not interrupt him, Craig stopped his conversation and said, "There's my boyfriend, gotta go." He waved to his new friends, and they waved back - Craig was relieved there was no judgment about him seeing another man - and then Craig made a beeline for Sören, who held out his arms. They hugged, and Sören gave Craig a little kiss on the cheek. Craig flushed, stomach fluttering.  
  
"Hey," Craig said. "I was on my way over -"  
  
"I know," Sören said. "I decided to take a little walk. It's a nice day." It was a late afternoon in early May, not too cold, not too warm, and wildflowers were in bloom; the mental health clinic had a lovely landscape of tulips in gold, red-orange, pink and violet, like a blazing sunset, and Sören and Craig took a moment to admire them.  
  
Sören took Craig's hand and led him out to a picnic table near the pagoda, a popular destination for people waiting for the bus or their rides, especially if they were having a smoke as they waited. Craig was one of the few patients in his group who hadn't taken up smoking cigarettes, which he understood was a way of coping with nervous energy - the same energy that drove many to drugs - but he felt it was swapping one addiction for another. And he'd never hear the end of it from Karen. He was glad he hadn't succumbed to the herd when he saw Sören make a face at people lighting up and the smell of cigarette smoke wafting over.  
  
"God, that's disgusting," Sören muttered, then he quickly patted Craig and said, "Not you."  
  
"I'd got that," Craig said. He also made a face at the smokers. "It's a filthy habit, I know."  
  
"I still can't believe Karen used to smoke. I can't wrap my head around that mental image. Anyway..." Sören reached out across the table and took Craig's hand. "You know what today is?"  
  
"Friday."  
  
Sören chuckled. "You've been in treatment for a full month."  
  
"Ah. Yeah, you're right. I'm graduating from partial hospital to only doing one group therapy session per weekday, and a support group two nights a week."  
  
"It's a big step. It's good that you've stuck with the treatment program. No relapses. That's a big deal."  
  
"Well, it's only a month," Craig said.  
  
Sören shook his head. "Don't sell yourself short. A month, when you've struggled with addiction for years, is _an achievement._ You deserve to feel proud of yourself. _I'm_ proud of you."  
  
Craig couldn't resist teasing him a little, giving him a taste of his own medicine. "Hi Proud Of You."  
  
"No, you're not Proud Of You, you're After Some Spankings."  
  
Craig grinned. "I hope so."  
  
Sören gently kicked him under the table and Craig kicked back, and started playing footsie with Sören under the table. Craig watched Sören's cheeks turn pink and felt a sense of accomplishment, and happiness in the obvious tell that Sören still liked him.  
  
"So I'm here to congratulate you, obviously," Sören said, "but also... I have something for you."  
  
"Oh god." Craig felt touched and embarrassed all at once - even though he knew that being in treatment for a month _was_ a good thing, he still felt like he had a long way to go yet, he wasn't entirely out of the woods, it was going to take months if not years for Craig to feel more confident that the worst was behind him. It also felt surreal how thoughtful Sören was. Emily had never been inconsiderate, exactly, but she'd never celebrated his sobriety the way Sören had. "You didn't have to get me anything -"  
  
"I did," Sören said. "You've been a good boy, and I wanted to reward my good boy."  
  
Craig's face flushed again - now he was the one to get flustered, feeling tingly and glowy every time Sören called him that. He very much liked being Sören's good boy.  
  
"OK, what is it?" Craig hoped Sören didn't spend a lot of money on him - even though Sören was employed and Craig wasn't, at the moment, Craig had a sizeable trust fund from his parents that he could live on for years, and he was set to inherit his father's estate down the road.  
  
" _As you know,_ " Sören said, deepening his voice in an imitation of Nicholas's basso, making Craig smile, before it returned to its usual pitch, "I have tomorrow night off. I booked a hotel room for us - pool, hot tub. It's only for the one night, we'll come back on Sunday afternoon, and then I need to give Nick a few uninterrupted evenings, _but_ he and I talked about it and he understands I wanted to do something nice for you."  
  
"That _is_ nice," Craig said. "Like a mini holiday."  
  
"So if you want to meet me at my place at five tomorrow, the hotel's in Bermondsey."  
  
"Will do," Craig said. "Shall I walk you back to the National?"  
  
"Sure, if you want to."  
  
"Of course I want to. It's extra time with you."  
  
Sören smiled that smile that always made Craig melt. It definitely wasn't just sex for Craig; he liked being around Sören. It was like cozying up to a hearth fire, basking in a ray of sunshine, especially when he smiled like that.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören had booked the "Lucy in the Sky" loft suite at the Bermondsey Square Hotel. While Craig wasn't entirely enamored of the modern decor and the bright colors in the bedroom - neither was Sören, whose brow furrowed as he looked around - the hot tub on the terrace more than made up for it. The terrace had an absolutely gorgeous view of the Thames, The Shard, South Bank and the London Eye; Craig let out a low whistle as he stood on the terrace and looked out at the view in the golden glow of the setting sun.  
  
First, they had dinner. Bermondsey was famed as a foodie haven - Emily had wanted to live there instead of Canary Wharf for that reason - though Sören had gone with the safe option of reservations at an Italian restaurant rather than one of the more trendy fusion places. Craig and Sören split a lasagna for two, and there was plenty of garlic bread and garden salad. The dessert menu looked tempting, especially the cannoli pictured on the cover, but before Craig could reach for it, Sören said, "Hold off on dessert... I, ah, I have something back at the hotel."  
  
With Sören being Sören, Craig was expecting something like whipped cream and strawberries in the fridge of their hotel room; the idea of eating strawberries and whipped cream off Sören's naked body sounded like a perfectly good one-month-in-treatment present. But instead, Sören unveiled a chocolate bundt cake that he'd made, which was, in fact, topped with strawberries and cream.  
  
"I baked this myself," Sören said. "Nick gave me a recipe, but I made it entirely on my own, this morning."  
  
Craig didn't know which impressed him more - that Sören had baked something just for him, or that Sören had actually gotten up in the morning to do it. Craig threw his arms around Sören and kissed him.  
  
The cake looked delicious, and it was delicious, but most delicious of all was Craig and Sören feeding each other bites of cake, feeding each other strawberries, licking and sucking each other's fingers. Craig was definitely raring to go when they finished their pieces of cake, with the rest tucked into the fridge. Craig was more than raring to go - since last night he'd thought about using their little getaway to the hotel as an opportunity to cross another milestone.  
  
Sören poured them each a glass of sparkling white grape juice - though Craig's problem had been with cocaine, not alcohol, Craig was nonetheless encouraged to abstain from alcohol as well, and not be presented with the temptation to swap one substance for another. "A toast," Sören said, raising his glass. "To a good boy, for staying strong all month."  
  
"To a good dom, for helping me keep strong." Craig raised his glass. "For shining a light to help me find my way back through the darkness."  
  
"Oh, _elskan._ " They clinked glasses and Sören kissed the tip of his nose.  
  
Craig rested his head on Sören's shoulder between sips of the sparkling grape juice, and when he was almost done he decided it was time to tell Sören what he'd been thinking about. "Hey, Sören?"  
  
"Hm?" Sören finished his glass and put it down; he cocked his head to one side, waiting.  
  
Craig gave a small clear of his throat. "I... I want you to take me tonight."  
  
"You mean..." Sören's breath hitched. His eyes widened and his eyebrows went up. He blinked, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You want to try bottoming?"  
  
Craig nodded solemnly. "I want this." He leaned in and gave Sören a kiss. "I want you."  
  
Sören stroked his cheek. "You're sure? I told you back when you couldn't that it's OK if you can't and I mean that, I don't want you to feel obligated -"  
  
Craig gave him a look. "Sören, I'm bloody sure. I've been thinking about your cock in me all day. So get those clothes off and fuck me -"  
  
Sören threw his head back and laughed. He patted Craig's head. "It's cute when you think you're in charge, pet." He booped Craig's nose and then he got up, stretching. "Here, let's relax a little first."  
  
They took a pre-jacuzzi shower, kissing as their hands played over each other's bodies, hard cocks rubbing together. Before they could get too frisky, they got in the hot tub with another glass of sparkling grape juice, and it was indeed _very_ relaxing to sit in the bubbly heat in the open air, looking up at the night sky and out at the view of everything lit up in the night. "This is wonderful," Craig said with a deep, happy sigh, flexing his toes. " _You're_ wonderful."  
  
Sören smiled. "I want to be good to you. Although, this trip isn't entirely unselfish of me. I'm thinking about taking Nick here the next time I have a weekend off, which will be sometime in June, probably..."  
  
It was hard to believe June was only a month away, that this year was half-over already. Craig barely remembered the first three months of 2015, lost in a coke-fueled haze, then the ordeal of his overdose and hospital stay.  
  
"...but I only knew this place had a suite with an outdoor hot tub, I didn't otherwise know what the room looked like. It's not _terrible_ , but the hot tub isn't going to be enough of a draw with Nick... being how he is. I can see him pulling an Oscar Wilde, 'either this decor goes or I do.'" Sören grinned. "Sometimes he's more of a gay stereotype than I am, and... I love that about him."  
  
Craig laughed. "Awwww." He sipped his drink. "I hope you two _do_ find someplace where you can go."  
  
"We'll see. Summer is tourist season and London gets a bit more crowded, harder to reserve things."  
  
"What about leaving the city for a weekend? Like going to Brighton?"  
  
Sören looked like he'd been stung. "Not Brighton," he said quietly, and finished his drink.  
  
Craig thought about asking why Brighton was a sore spot, and decided against it - he had a feeling it had something to do with Anthony. He knew anything related to Anthony was going to hurt for Sören for a long time, just like anything related to Emily still felt sore and fraught.  
  
 _I lost Emily and got a Sören._ Even with just being one of Sören's side partners, not a primary partner, Craig still felt like he got more attention and affection from Sören than he ever had from Emily. She hadn't mistreated him, but she had been very wrapped up in her studies and wanting to maintain a certain image and pursue a certain life. Craig felt like he could just be himself and he was accepted here, and that made a world of difference. He slid closer to Sören and they cuddled, relaxing more deeply in the water... even moreso when Sören pulled him into his arms and began to rock him slowly.  
  
"My good boy," Sören said. "You're a good boy."  
  
Now Craig was getting horny again. Sören chuckled as he felt Craig's cock rise, and reached under the water to play with it. "My, what do we have here?"  
  
Craig smirked. "The Lost Ark."  
  
Sören splashed him. Craig splashed him back. They got into a splash war, which became a tickle fight when Craig leaned in and found, to his delight, that Sören's armpits and sides were incredibly ticklish. He loved making Sören giggle and snort and scream; Sören returned the favor, tickling his tummy until Craig fell on him, tapping out.  
  
That was their cue to get out of the tub, and back into the shower. Their post-jacuzzi shower was more languid and sensual than the previous one, the two caressing as they lathered, then playing with each other's cocks as they rinsed. When Sören started to kiss Craig's neck and shoulder, Craig bucked against him, cock throbbing, hole twitching, desperate to get fucked. Sören laughed softly as he licked up Craig's neck. "So impatient," Sören husked.  
  
"Oh god. Please." Craig gave a little whine. "Please, Sir, I've been a good boy..."  
  
Sören's face lit up and Craig realized this was another milestone. Sören had called him a good boy dozens of times over the last month, but this was the first time Craig had referred to _himself_ as a good boy, had said something positive about himself, rather than the usual laying into himself with guilt for having fallen into addiction a second time. Sören kissed him hard, Sören's cock bumping up against his, and their cocks slowly slid together as they kissed and kissed. Then Sören touched Craig's face and whispered, "You _have_ been a good boy. And that's why your master wants to spoil you."  
  
With that, Sören got down on his knees right there in the shower, his eyes locked with Craig's as those full, pouty lips wrapped around his cock. Craig groaned at the sight of his cock in Sören's mouth, and moaned as Sören began to suck, achingly slowly, looking up at Craig with such lust in his eyes that it made Craig's cock pulse again, a shudder going through him. "Oh god," Craig panted, getting lost in the sweet sensation of Sören's slow sucking, lost in the sexiest eyes Craig had ever seen. One of Sören's hands latched onto Craig's leg to support himself, caressing up and down Craig's calf, brushing his knee, and the other reached up to cup and rub Craig's balls. Craig cried out at the feel of Sören's hand teasing his balls, and again as Sören began to rub his tongue as he sucked. A few minutes later Sören took Craig's cock out of his mouth and licked up and down the shaft in long, deliberate strokes, then swirled around and around the head. He sucked at just the head, kissing it, before he took the cock out again to lick it some more, tap the head against his tongue to collect the precum, lash the sensitive frenulum.  
  
"Sören, oh god, Sören, _please_..." Craig trembled, his fists tugging at Sören's wet curls, needing release so badly but it felt so good, he didn't know if he was begging Sören to fuck him or keep going.  
  
Sören laughed, scooping up more precum with his tongue before he pulled back slightly, still on his knees. "Turn around," he rasped.  
  
Craig knew what was coming. He quickly turned around, and put his hands up against the shower wall and thrust his ass out at Sören. Sören's tongue inside him felt as good if not better than Sören's mouth on his cock. Craig heard himself panting, gasping, whimpering as Sören's tongue slowly rubbed inside him, then faster, harder, tongue-fucking him. Craig's entire body was electrified by that tongue teasing inside him, fast then slow then fast again, the pleasure so exquisite that Craig felt like he could die of it.  
  
At last Sören stopped, and slapped Craig's ass. "Turn off the shower," Sören told him; Craig did as he was told. When he turned around again Sören took a few more licks at his cock, which was dripping even more precum, and then Sören rose - Craig offered his hand to help Sören up. After Sören stood, he pulled Craig into a kiss, and Craig realized as their tongues met that Sören hadn't swallowed the last bit of precum, leaving it on his tongue for Craig to taste himself. Craig moaned into the kiss, cock jolting at the debauched feeling of tasting himself on Sören. Sören slapped Craig's ass again, and led him out of the bathroom to the bed.  
  
Sören still took his sweet time, getting into the sixty-nine position. Sucking Sören's cock as Sören sucked his, and tongue-fucked his channel again, drove Craig even crazier. Craig was almost sobbing when Sören licked his cock, fingering him with one hand, fingers brushing up and down his spine with the other. Craig found himself fucking Sören's fingers, giving pleading whines around the cock in his mouth, feeling like he was in heat. Finally he pulled Sören's precum-slick cock out of his mouth and gasped out, "Now. Please, now. I need it now..."  
  
"OK, _elskan._ " Sören slapped Craig's ass, and rubbed it.  
  
Craig watched as Sören went to the bathroom to retrieve a small complementary tub of lotion, since Sören hadn't expected Craig to want to bottom and hadn't brought lube. Sören climbed back onto the bed, laying on his back, and worked the lotion over his cock. Sören's cock looked even more delicious glistening from the lotion, and the scent of the lotion combined with the natural musk of Sören's arousal in the most intoxicating way. Craig's cock and hole both twitched, going out of his mind with lust and need.  
  
"I think you should ride me," Sören said. "If that sounds acceptable to you..."  
  
Craig crawled over as fast as he could and rose up on his knees, scooting into position. Sören guided the tip of his cock to Craig's opening and Craig took some deep breaths. "If you need me to stop, just tell me," Sören whispered. "I don't want to hurt you."  
  
"I promise," Craig said. He took another deep breath and began to sink down.  
  
Sören was not small, and the length and thickness was enough of a stretch that it did hurt a little at first - Craig gasped and Sören gave him a concerned look. "Are you all right, _elskan_? Do you need to stop -"  
  
"I need to do this," Craig said. He resumed slow, deep breaths, pushing out as Sören pushed in, and at last Sören was inside. Craig rested for a moment, almost too full, and Sören took his hands. Craig squeezed Sören's hands, feeling like just this, alone, was an accomplishment.  
  
Craig took another deep breath and began to rock his hips, gently, up and down, Sören's cock gliding out, then in. After a few motions Craig gasped for a completely different reason. "Oh god. That bead." Craig shuddered and groaned as the bead in the ring of Sören's Prince Albert piercing hit that spot. Craig cried out as it rubbed him again. And again. " _Fuck_ , god..."  
  
"Good?"  
  
" _Yes._ "  
  
Craig had never been fucked by anyone with a Prince Albert. It didn't just look sexy as hell, a pretty adornment on a gorgeous cock, but it was like that piercing was designed for this, to rub that sweet spot. Soon Craig was bouncing on Sören's cock, no pain, only delicious pleasure. No fear, only hunger. Sören's cock felt so good inside him, and he loved surrendering like this...  
  
...trusting like this.  
  
Sören's hands were on Craig's hips now and Sören started to rock his own hips, giving Craig a ride, as Craig continued to work his hips and ass. When Craig began to work his ass in a circular motion, teasing them both, Sören growled and Craig almost came right then. He got closer, closer, gasping, panting, the sensation more and more intense, lust consuming him at Sören's sexy eyes, his body. He ran his hands over Sören, lingering at the pierced nipples, playing with them. Sören returned the favor, hands sliding up from Craig's hips over his stomach and chest, and when Sören began to play with Craig's nipples, Craig threw back his head and yelled, "Oh god, Sören, _fuck_ , I need to come..."  
  
"I bet you do." Sören slapped Craig's ass. Keeping one hand on Craig's chest, Sören's right hand gripped Craig's cock and stroked. "You like that, _elskan_?"  
  
"God, yes. God, it's fucking good..."  
  
"Want this to be good for my good boy."  
  
That got Craig even closer to the edge. Closer still when Sören husked, "That's a good boy, taking your master's cock like this. I love watching my good boy ride me. Such a good, beautiful boy. You're going to make your master come, deep inside you. You want to feel your master come? Want him to claim you?"  
  
"Fuck, _yes._ " Just the thought of Sören coming inside him got Craig even closer. He was shaking now, feeling ready to explode.  
  
Sören's thumb rubbed at Craig's frenulum, his grip on Craig's cock tightening. Craig bounced as hard as he could, that bead stroking inside him in that perfect, sweet rhythm, nothing had ever felt so good and he wanted to keep going but he needed to come... "Oh fuck," Craig gasped, feeling himself rush over the edge. "Oh god, Sören, fuck, I'm coming..."  
  
"Come for me, pet. That's my good boy, come for me..."  
  
Craig screamed as he started to shoot, spraying Sören's face and chest. Sören groaned, licking his lips, tasting Craig's seed, and that set Craig off again, shooting another load. Two thrusts later Sören cried out and Craig did too as he felt the molten flow inside him, gratified by that feeling of the evidence of their passion.  
  
Sören pulled Craig down against his chest and hugged him tight, rocked and pet him. "Good boy. My good boy," Sören whispered, raining kisses over Craig's face, rubbing his nose in Craig's hair, kissing the top of his head. "Such a good boy. Such a good boy, you did it, that's my good boy..."  
  
Craig started to cry - happy tears. Tears of relief. What they'd just done didn't undo what Justin Roberts had done to him, but he still felt like he'd taken back something that had been stolen, and that feeling of reclaiming shook him to his core.  
  
Not just reclaiming, but belonging. He hadn't just done drugs to escape from stress and numb the pain, it had been a social lubricant, it had been a way to connect with people, find a niche. He knew it was a hollow, fake niche now, but the need to belong was still powerful. Here in Sören's arms, he had a friend. He had someone who genuinely cared about him - who had cared enough to give him a chance to prove himself again. He felt the acceptance he'd been craving and never truly gotten from others.  
  
He felt a glimmer of hope, that maybe the second overdose _had_ been his last and things would look up from here.  
  
In the meantime... he felt good. He felt damn good. He'd never come that hard before - he was still throbbing, feeling like he was flying.  
  
"Good boy," Sören said, rubbing Craig's back. "My good boy."  
  
 _Yes. Yours._ He snuggled into Sören's shoulder, feeling true peace, true joy, the kind of high drugs had never been able to provide.


End file.
